


When I Kissed The Teacher

by LadyLacerta



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Mutual Pining, Post-War, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship, slowest burn of them all but that's bc it would be illegal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 15:50:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 37,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17625269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLacerta/pseuds/LadyLacerta
Summary: Hermione Granger always knew she'd be back to Hogwarts, to finish her education, but she would never have guessed being back in the Potions' classroom, being taught by Professor Snape -- and what meeting him all over again would lead to."His kiss tasted like firewhiskey.Firewhiskey, and mint toothpaste, and a (nearly) year-long wait."





	1. Chapter 1

August, 2000

I tossed my scrambled eggs around on my plate. The more time passed, the more anxiety built  in my stomach, my chest, suffocating me. After everything that I'd been through, it felt silly to be so bothered about the time McGonagall was taking to confirm my enrollment for the next term, but I couldn't help myself. 

  
If I wanted to, I could just live off the pension I'd been offered by the Ministry. Shacklebolt's reasoning was that I used to rely on my parents financially, and considering their memories were taking their sweet time to come back, it would be better for me to be able to live on my own and support myself. 

He told me not to rush, that the Ministry could afford me, but I was tired of sitting around. I had the feeling sitting around with too much free time to relive the war in my head again and again wasn't doing me any favors. 

And so I decided to return to Hogwarts to finish my education. 

If McGonagall approved me, that is. I wasn't going to return as an actual student. I'd be assisting Professor Vector with Arithmancy as her assistant, with alloted self-study hours and office hours with the teachers so I could study by myself for the NEWTs in the end of the term. I was quite older than the oldest students, and, besides, I wanted pay, any pay, so I could ask the Ministry to stop giving me money for free. 

A knock on the door startled me. 

I was a bit too far away from society to receive visitors often. My parents didn't recover their memories enough to return to England, and so I moved to Australia instead. Travelling long-distance was a problem even for wizards. That said, I was a two-hours drive away from my parents and the facility in which they had their weekly appointments to recover their memories. 

I was also half an hour away from any commercial stablishment. The small condo I rented was overlooking a deserted beach, a mere ten minute walk away from the ocean, the only thing I splurged with ever since living off the Ministry's back. I got no visitors, almost no mail and absolutely no delivery service. 

Harry visited once in a blue moon, and Ron... A year after the break-up, he still wouldn't talk to me proper. 

I bit my lip, wand at ready, as I tip-toed towards the front door. Through the stained glass, all I could see was a dark figure. 

"Who is it?" I asked, trying to make my voice sound firm. 

A sigh. 

"I'm certain you weren't expecting me, Granger, but we need to talk."

The voice was familiar. A chill went up my spine. I raised my wand.

"Oh, do we?"

"It's Severus Snape." On the other side of the door, he sighed again. "You do know it was part of my cover, do you not? All of it?"

That made me lower my wand, and open the door just a couple of inches, to indeed see Severus Snape in the flesh standing in my front porch. I couldn't speak for a moment, my jaw bobbing open and closed without a word ever escaping my lips. 

"I am sorry to have appearead uninvited," he said. "I feared you wouldn't respond if I wrote you." 

"You feared right." I replied, recomposing myself a bit. 

He was wildly different from what I remembered. His hair was way shorter, and he had grown a beard. Well, not exactly grown a beard. More like he didn't bother to shave in quite a while. The scar from Nagini's almost fatal attack crept up the collar of his black button up, into his jaw: the facial hair concealed it some. 

Aside from that, I wouldn't ever have guess the type of muggle clothing he wore, even though I should have known he'd be the type to wear leather jackets. 

Also, he had put on some weight. 

Probably because he was no longer a double agent from Voldemort and fearing for his life every second. 

"Which is why I came here in person. Will you allow me to come in?"

I didn't know the man standing in front of me. I let him in anyway, opening the door wider so he could pass. 

"Sit, I guess." I said, but remained on my feet. 

He did sit on the couch of my tiny living room, and observed me in silence for a moment. 

"I came because McGonagall has let me know you have not enrolled in Potions."

"I haven't."

"Because of me, I can only assume."

"Why..." I said. "Why are you still even teaching Potions? You hated teaching Potions."

"I've been teaching Potions for nearly twenty years now, and not one student from Hogwarts decided to pursue further education in the subject. The reason why is not a mystery, of course. Unfortunately for me, Slughorn is developing dementia." 

Silence. 

"Besides, I wouldn't say I hate teaching Potions. I suppose I'd rather be doing something else with my time, hopefully something unrelated to children, however until McGonagall finds another Potions' Master, it would be rude of me not to do her this favor."

"Rude." I echoed. 

"It was all a cover, Granger. All of it. Do you honestly think someone in their right mind would be that antagonistic?"

"Well... You don't strike me as a particularly good actor."

"I'd describe my cover as a hyperbole." He crossed his legs."Either way, I wanted to let you know it wouldn't be like in the past, if you decide to enroll in Potions. Dropping Potions may hurt your career prospectives."

Severus Snape felt a like a complete stranger to me. I suppose I was speaking to him -- and not the caricature he made of himself -- for the very first time. I wasn't sure if I liked him or not. 

"I don't want to be an Auror." 

"Don't tell me it doesn't bother you to drop a whole subject that isn't Divination."

It did. 

If he had been just a tiny bit less detestable, I would have bitten the bullet. 

But the Severus Snape before me was being perfectly pleasant, if a bit ironic. In fact, he went on a several hours long journey just to convince me not to drop Potions, because it would hurt my career prospects. I was half-way across the world. 

"Why are you doing this?"

"Consider this gesture my apology to you." he said, simply. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The plan seemed much better in my head, I thought as I sat on Granger’s living room. She mumbled something about putting on actual clothes and fled the scene, in a reaction that didn’t surprise me — but also made me realize I went forward with the scheme of finding my way over to another hemisphere of the planet without much forethought.

I didn’t know Granger at all. For all I knew, me coming here, to her place, uninvited, would make her even more afraid. I had no idea she lived by herself and stayed on pajamas until the middle of the morning.

I also had no idea the winters in Australia were so warm. I wanted to take off my jacket and roll up my sleeves, if only I didn’t have a huge scar on my arm where the Dark Mark once was. The healers in St. Mungos tried everything, but neither the Dark Mark scar and Nagini’s scar budged.

Granger took her time, probably digesting the news. I decided to stand up and stretch my legs to pace around the living room while I waited for her. The furniture was minimal, if of good taste. The couch was striped, white and blue, matching the light colors of the house, and the center table was made out of bamboo.

Overall, a perfectly decorated beach house, but it wasn’t a home to Granger.

The living room was more of a small section of the whole first floor, which was also a kitchen and a dining room, with one wall made of sliding glass doors, with a back porch leading to the beach. I found myself gravitating towards the view of the sea, crashing on waves against the stripe of sand before it.

Maybe with retirement, I could travel about some and see new places besides Hogwarts and Spinner’s End.

I heard Granger’s soft steps climbing down the stairs, and returned to the living room.

“Isn’t it too late for me to enroll?”

She resurfaced wearing jeans, rolled up to her calves, and a masculine t-shirt, which made her frame seem even daintier; Granger seemed to be the type of woman who’d remain forever petite. The lack in frame was compensated by the intense chocolate eyes and the hair, a rich shade of mahogany, forming a mane of tight coils around her head.

Living in Australia made her brown skin a nice, glowing tan. The only thing I could get out of the sun was skin cancer.

“I asked McGonagall to hold it back whilst I travelled here to speak to you in person.”

“That’s quite the effort.”

Her guards were still up high. Then again, what did I expect? What did I even want with doing all of it just to get a single student to enroll in my class?

“I’m well aware. I figured I owed you this, for all the things I’ve done and said.”

Granger took a deep breath and said:

“I’m way behind in Potions, you know. I didn’t study it all, because I figured that if I ever came back to Hogwarts, I would never be your student again.”

I perked up a bit, sensing I was wining her over. Somehow.

“We can remedy that.” I replied. “If I understood it correctly, you will have office hours with the teachers, won’t you?”

Granger pressed her brown lips together.

“I do. I… I don’t know what to say. It’s hard to believe you didn’t mean the things you said. It is at least something I’ll need time to comprehend. Why… Why did you have to do that?”

“The Dark Lord was watching me. I suppose I could go either way and justify myself later, but for the sake of my mission, the most desirable outcome was to make him believe Dumbledore was a senile old man who couldn’t see what was in front of his nose. I had to make everyone believe that. It was safer that way, even if it caused trouble along the way.”

Granger shifted on her spot, uncomfortable. She had fallen for it.  

“It made the Dark Lord less cautious, is all. I could have been pleasant, but then I wouldn’t have several people backing me up on my claim that I was a loyal Death Eater. I’d have nothing but my word.” I said, and then silenced, waiting for her to keep up with my reasoning.

“So you didn’t… Hate Harry?”

“He was a child.”

“And you don’t think I’m an insufferable know-it-all?”

“You could use learning the art of keeping quiet when a teacher asks a rethorical question to get the students to think…” I replied. “But, no, I didn’t think that. What I _did_ think… Was that if anyone close to Potter could possibly figure me out, that person would be you.”

“And… And what about Gryffindors? Is there a grain of truth on your feelings over Gryffindors?”

The question made me pause. I didn’t know the answer myself.

Granger stood with her shoulders rigid, and I stood feeling as if I was being observed under a microscope, though I knew explaining myself elicited questions, and I wanted to answer them as honestly as possible.

“I have deeply disliked some Gryffindors I’ve met. And Dumbledore _did_ for a fact favor the house and its students.”

“Is there a but to that observation?”

“It might surprise you to know I have made good friendships with Gryffindors.”

Well, one.

Lily.

I wasn’t willing to be honest about it to Granger or to anyone.

“Have you now?”

“I wasn’t always a double agent walking on the tight rope, Granger. I had a life, once, many years ago.”

That cheeky reply made her raise her brow, though it also settled the issue. Her stance eased, and her voice softened:

“Well, I… That’s quite a lot to process in one go. I…”

“I will ask McGonagall to give you, say, a week to reflect on what I’ve said. Will a week be enough time?”

Granger’s entire manner shifted. Her shoulders relaxed, and she loosened her pressed lips, even though her arms remained crossed over her chest. I was still a strange man inside her house, after all.

I realized what I was looking for at that moment. I was looking for a small piece of atonement, of forgiveness. People forgave me left and right, but most of them had not been truly hurt by me. Of course they’d forgive me.

If I could get Granger to think I was a somewhat decent human being, then maybe I’d start feeling like one.

“Will you return to Hogwarts soon or will you stay here for a while?” she wanted to know.

“I should return as soon as I’m done here.”

“If that’s the case… Would you mind taking my letter requesting my enrollment in Potions?”


	3. Chapter 3

It should have been a simple letter, however words eluded me. I tickled the tip of my nose with my quill, unable to focus on writing McGonagall, because my brain was fixated on the awareness of Severus Snape sitting beside me on the table, sipping on the water I offered him as he watched the waves, visible from my sliding glass doors.  

I recalled every interaction, everything I heard him say or saw him do during the war. Most of it seemed awfully phony now, but then again, at the time, I had no idea.

“And what about that time you almost threw a jar on Harry’s head?” I asked.

“I have good aim for someone who doesn’t do exercise other than the occasional jog.” he said, letting me know he missed on purpose. “I had to make a point. Don’t you see how dangerous it was for someone with a direct connection to the Dark Lord’s mind to see my memories? If he had seen anything else on that pensieve…”

In fact, it was a lucky memory, because it backed up everything we thought we knew of him at that time. His hatred for Harry’s father…

For muggleborns in general.

I had completely forgotten he knew Harry’s mother, too.

Wait…

“Were you _friends_ with Harry’s mother?”

“We were friendly acquaintances, yes.” he replied, way too smoothly. “How did you reach that conclusion?”

“Harry told me what he saw in the pensieve that day.”

Snape nodded. I had a letter to write still, but that laid forgotten at a side of the table, with the rest of my writing materials.

“Why… Why did you call her a mudblood?”

With that, he inhaled a deep breath. Then exhaled. A moment later, he turned to me, and said:

“I did become a Death Eater at one point, Granger. So, yes, I have done terrible things without elegant explanations behind them. This was one of those things.”

“So why did you defect?” I inquired.

He leaned back into his chair, his mouth a hard line.

“That is private. And, at this point, I believe it is irrelevant. The war is over. The Dark Lord is dead.”

So he was willing to explain himself to me, but drew the line around the times he was actually a Death Eater — and anything before that. I could understand his reasoning. It truly did not matter anymore.

“Of course. I’m sorry. I couldn’t… I couldn’t help being curious.”

“You and the rest of England’s wizardry community.” he replied, shaking his head.

Indeed, I had no idea it was possible to keep something out of Daily’s Prophet’s hands until I saw him dodging interviews and photographs. He disappeared from the public eye, somehow, even though he still taught at Hogwarts.

I returned to my task at hand.

 _Headmistress McGonagall_ , I wrote. _Upon further reflection, I would like to request my enrollment for the discipline of Potions._

That would have to do.

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione Granger._

I folded the letter — more like a note, to be fair —, stuck it inside an envelope, and sealed it with hot wax. I slid it to Snape over the table.

“Consider your apology accepted.”

He picked it up without ceremony and put it in the inside pocket of his jacket, the slightest hint of triumph lighting up his features.

“And again,” I added. “Sorry for asking so many questions.”

“I had this conversation many times in the past couple of years. I understand the curiosity.”

Snape finished the glass of water with a large sip.

“Before you leave, is there anything I should read in the meantime to prepare for Potions? Taking in consideration I haven’t seen a cauldron in months, if not years?”

He sat down again and gestured for me to pass him the quill and a scrap of paper. In his delicate calligraphy, he wrote a list of four books I’ve never heard of.

“Since the NEWTs are standardized, Hogwarts only uses a single textbook, that I find _deplorable_ ,” he explained, sounding more like the Severus Snape I used to know. “These are the ones you should read if you want to become a proficient potion brewer.”

With that list in hand, I walked him over to the front door. My thumb drew circles in that piece of paper, the only physical evidence of Snape’s visit. Learning more about him screwed with my sense of reality; in the back of my mind, I kept assessing and reassessing the memories I had in which he appeared, trying to locate the truth behind them.

It was hard to accept huge chunks of my past had been fabricated by the man crossing my threshold. A man who seemed to be… Sweet, underneath it all. He clearly never visited Australia before, if his heavy, black clothes were any indication, but he came all the way.

And was going back all the way less than hour after arriving.

“See you in Hogwarts,” I said to him.

“See you then.”

He climbed down the front steps and disappeared with a loud crack, leaving behind nothing but thin air.

A couple days later, my acceptance letters arrived. One was about the subjects I’d be taking that term, the office hours I had available for me and other such things, and the second one was a thick letter that took me over two hours to get through.

It contained all the rules and regulations I’d be under as Hogwarts’ staff. My payment, the hours of work I would have to put in every week, my assigned tasks… The longest part was about the students. It went from “don’t date your students” — duh — to minutia like what to do in different types of emergencies, how to behave in face of certain misdemeanors.

If I was anxious before because I wasn’t sure I’d get in, I became anxious over the reality I’d be responsible for children and their wellbeing. Surely, I had less responsibilities than an actual teacher, and still it was a lot to memorize.

 _Well_ , I thought to myself, _if Gilderoy Lockhart did it, I could do it._

Though, in all honesty, I doubted he read half of it before signing the contract.


	4. Chapter 4

“This might have been the easiest galleon I ever made,” I said as I placed Granger’s letter on top of McGonagall’s desk.

Despite being Headmistress for a couple of years, she still hadn’t moved to the office which used to be Dumbledore’s. I couldn’t fault her. It felt disrespectful to get rid of his personal belongings. I hadn’t done it in my brief period as Headmaster — but I couldn’t afford to show her degree of sentimentalism back then, so I had to use the office.

She pursed her lips and broke the wax seal, her eyes scanning the letter’s contents.

“It seems you have convinced her.”

“Granger is a smart young woman, McGonagall.”

McGonagall took a shiny golden coin out of the pocket of her dress and tossed it to me, her lips curled in distaste.

We still didn’t like each other. She couldn’t forgive me for becoming a Death Eater in the first place, and I couldn’t forgive her for looking the other way in all of my years as a student.

I didn’t mind it. Even after all I’ve done, I couldn’t forgive myself for being a Death Eater, either. So I understood her point of view. Besides, at least this time I had the upper hand. There was truly no one who could fill in my shoes as a Potions’ teacher, not from England anyway.

“How was she?” McGonagall wanted to know.

I sat on a visitor’s chair without invitation.

“I’m honestly glad that she is coming here, because I’m not certain being all by herself in a deserted beach is doing her sanity any favors. Why didn’t you warn me she lives alone?”

McGonagall adjusted her glasses, looking a little paler.

“I didn’t know. She moved to Australia to be with her parents and I assumed she lived with them.”

I shook my head, recalling that morning’s events. It was nighttime, way after dinner by the time my feet stepped on Hogwarts’ grounds; I came to McGonagall’s office because I knew she’d be waiting for me to arrive to hear from Granger. She also hoped to get a galleon out of my pocket. Gladly, that didn’t happen.

Granger’s house was clean, obsessively so. As if she did nothing but clean every surface over and over. She had no pictures anywhere, no trinkets. Nothing. She had always been a small girl, but I wondered if she was even eating enough.

I couldn’t help worrying. It was one thing to be caught up in a war as a young adult. Being in the epicenter of a war as a child, a teenager, was quite another. And, unlike me, she was on the right side the entire time, with an enormous target on her back for being a muggleborn, friends with Harry Potter.

The war was over, but there were still fresh wounds, not all of them visible.

I stood up to make my leave.

“Write her frequently, if you can. She could use it.” I said, from the doorstep, and then made my way back to my house.

Which, in all honesty, wasn’t that different from Granger’s. Sure, it was a townhouse in a row of many others like it, and as such, I wasn’t isolated, but I didn’t know my neighbors. They might as well be galaxies away from me.

My house wasn’t much of a home, either, though I rather liked spending my time on it. I couldn’t bear sleeping in my old chambers, so I returned every night to sleep in my own bed.

Own _empty_ bed.

After taking a shower and eating a quick meal, I leaned back on my pillows with a book. My sleep wasn’t as tragic as it used to be, but still, it was far from being healthy. I’d probably be reading until the wee hours of the morning, or whenever I’d give up and take a sleeping potion.

The book laid unopened on my bedside drawer.

My actual problem was that, still being stuck with working in Hogwarts, even if I wanted not to be so alone in the world, I would have a hard time finding friends. The only new people I met were students.

And I didn’t want to even think about dating.

As soon as I woke in St. Mungos, with plenty of time to reflect, I realized I held on to Lily’s memories because otherwise I would have fallen apart and given up. I did come to understand the horrors caused by pureblood supremacy, and I wanted to help, but being a double agent was a heavy burden to bear.

I did it for Lily, for the most part.

That didn’t mean I was still in love with her all that time. I couldn’t recall her face anymore. I remembered the golden reflex of her hair under the sun, her warmth when she laid her head on my shoulder, and that was all. I let her memories fade, because the face I remembered, the Lily I knew, was fifteen years old. All I saw was a child.

I couldn’t possibly think of her in the same light after becoming an adult.

There was this particularly witty nurse in St. Mungos that called my attention; it was my first attempt at behaving like a regular human being after wearing a mask for such a long time. She had to be around my age, and her sharp tongue matched mine while I struggled to comprehend that I didn’t have to be so difficult any longer.

I was a little in love with her, I realized.

Thankfully, that came to me only much later. Who was to say what I would have done if I had been aware of it back then? I was her patient. She was nice to me because she had to be. Besides, she took care of me when I spent a whole week unconscious, so that meant she saw me in a state that could kill any romantic thoughts.

Perhaps I should return to St. Mungos and see how she was doing.

I decided against it, after a couple of minutes. She’d remember me, of course, but the idea of falling in love again — genuinely so — was too terrifying. My past would scare people away, and I could scarcely live with it, as it were.

I also decided it was time for a sleeping potion. My thoughts would only spiral downwards from there…

Despite my pessimistic thoughts, my dreams were pleasant: I dreamt of the waves crashing against the sand, and the blazing sun of the Australian winter.


	5. Chapter 5

The castle looked nothing like I expected. Which was to say, it looked perfectly fine. One wouldn’t be able to tell it had been torn apart by a battle, or even believe that happened at all unless they’ve seen the destruction themselves.

If all the deaths left any trace of them behind, I couldn’t feel it, which was a small blessing for me. McGonagall greeted me with a warm hug by steps leading to the Great Hall, in which she waited for my arrival.

Throughout the three weeks I spent preparing to return to Hogwarts, she wrote me, asking about my progress and how I was doing, motherly in a way I couldn’t expect her to ever be. Then again, the nature of our relationship was quite different now, even though she was my boss.  

“Your trip here was pleasant, I hope.” she said.

“It was, thank you very much, Professor McGonagall.”

She waved a hand.

“Call me Minerva. We are all adults here.” A pause. “Unless there are other students within ear shot. I prepared one of the most beautiful rooms in this castle for you. It’s quite small, I’m afraid, but the view makes up for it.”

“If there’s a bed and a desk, I’m happy.” I replied, as I followed her quick steps towards the upper levels of the castle. “Is there anything for me to do to prepare for the students’ arrival tomorrow?”

“Well, Professor Vector wants to go through her lessons plans with you, since it’s possible you’ll have to teach some of her classes. She is currently assisting a difficult case with the curse breakers at the Ministry, and that shall make her quite busy during the next couple of months. You can find her at her office before dinner.”

I was happy to be back, and happy to see Hogwarts for the first time without an ever present looming threat, yet there was a pit in my stomach. I feel too young, suddenly, to take such responsibilities. I was too old to be a regular student, however quite too young to be teaching.

But that had been predicted in my work contract — one of the main duties consisted in substituting Professor Vector in case of her absence.

“And do you think the students will respect me?” I said.

“Nearly all the teachers here started at your age.” replied McGonagall. “And few did with your distinction. You’ll be fine.”

We were walking through the hallways around the towers. The Ravenclaw common room had to be close. McGonagall took a few turns that made my head spin, and stopped in front of a discreet door.

“If I were you, I’d ward this door to make it invisible. You don’t want the students learning where you sleep, if you can help it.” she warned me as she opened it.

I couldn’t have asked for a lovelier place. It wasn’t much bigger than an ordinary bedroom, but it had a spacious desk, plenty of shelves and windows, besides a privileged view of the grounds and the Forbidden Forest. There was even a nook near of the windows I could use for reading.

The sunset bathed the place in a warm, orange light.  

“It’s lovely!” I exclaimed, setting my trunk down.

“I’ll leave you to unpack, then.” McGonagall replied, pleased with herself.

The only things I did unpack were my parchment, ink and quill. I wrote a letter to tell my parents I arrived well, and another to Harry with about the same content; he replied quite fast to the letter I’d written about returning to Hogwarts, promising a reunion as soon as I set foot in England, which I was eager to remind him of. I asked about Ron, as well.

Seeing Hogwarts back on its tracks made me wistful to amend some things about my own life. Harry and Ron drifted apart from me, but I had to confess I shut them out in equal measure, by moving to Australia and not talking much about the progress with my parents.

That seemed to be something of the past I lost and would never completely fix, however progress on their recovery was palpable enough for me to talk about it and not tear up. That, or I had grown thick skin on the subject.

Either way, I felt better than I did in the past five years.

Feeling optimistic, I headed to Professor Vector’s office.

“Oh, hello there, Hermione.” she said, in a casual manner when she opened the door. “Come sit. You arrived at a good time.”

Being treated so casually by all my previous teachers felt surreal. With a hesitant smile, I sat down. Vector’s office’s walls were covered by blackboards, where pieces of chalk wrote down complex equations.

“As you can see, I’m busy with other things in the start of this semester, so I was thinking you should teach the first, say, couple of lessons to the third years.”

“Really?”

Vector shrugged.

“Well, that might encourage the students to enroll in my class too, but that is collateral damage.”

Vector’s classes were no bigger than fifteen students, if that much. She was brilliant and strict in equal measure, and Arithmancy was a tough subject, especially for purebloods and half-bloods that didn’t attend muggle schools and lacked the grasp of basic concepts on numbers. She went on:

“I also figured you could be more successful in introducing them to first basic steps. It has been a long while since I last was a student. It is harder to understand what goes through their heads when you can’t remember being in that position.”

“How… How old are you, exactly, if I may ask?”

Vector had to dye her hair, a brown so dark it was nearly black. She could be anywhere from thirty to sixty.

“Forty-seven. You start teaching one day, you blink, and next thing you know, your students are all grown adults, and you’re teaching their children.” she complained.

I found her personality out of the classroom amusing. It was interesting to see a strict teacher being so well-humored. Her humor was dry and had a bite to it, but I thought it was pleasant. In fact, Vector reminded quite of another strict teacher I knew, which I would have to bother if I wanted to get a good grade for my Potions’ NEWTs.

For the first time, I caught myself thinking fondly of Snape.


	6. Chapter 6

The dinner with the staff had me quite taken back. It wasn’t served at the staff’s table. The furniture sat empty on its place, while the tables for the students were resting at the corners of the Great Hall. Dinner was served instead at a table set in the middle of the Hall, which felt to me like a meal among friends.

I supposed I was among friends now. Hagrid gave me my second tight hug of the day, and everyone greeted me warmly by my first name, offering their most sincere welcome.

Well, Snape sat by the farthest corner of the table and gave me a simple nod in acknowledgment, which, I supposed, was his version of a warm welcome. Fine by me. Out of all the teachers, he was the one which made me the shiest, considering the visit he paid me three weeks prior.

I had no clue what to do with myself when it came to him. I wasn’t sure he wanted the same level of casual relations I now had with the rest of the staff, and he surely didn’t seem eager to socialize, either, eating his dinner in silence, with an open book right beside it.

Gladly, I sat far from him, and Professor Sprout drew me in with a discussion about my studies when it came to her subject.

“I’ll make sure to send you a timetable for the greenhouse by the morning,” she said to me. “I’ve read your essays and, of course, you have a good grasp on the theory, but your practice may be a bit deficient. Unless you had a greenhouse at your disposal in Australia.”

“I’m afraid that was not the case.” I admitted.

“Well, that won’t be a problem, you’ll see. I’ll schedule some hours just for you, and I’ll give you a spare key to the greenhouses, including mine. That way, you’ll be able to work whenever you have time available.”

“That’s very kind of you to offer, Pomona.”

She waved a hand.

“That’s the least I can do for you, my dear. And if there’s anything else you need, don’t hesitate to ask me.”

Sure, my time table would be tight with everything I had on my plate for the term, but the more I spoke to the teachers, the more I was confident I could do it — especially because they were all invested in my success. Even Snape, who in fact did the most effort on that regard, by convincing me not to drop Potions.

I had to speak to him about it, in fact, though I wasn’t sure when would be a good time for me to do so.

He was sitting so far away from me, too.

He finished his dinner first and bid a polite good night to everyone in the table as he stood.

“Hm… Professor Snape?” I said, barely above a whisper, almost hoping he wouldn’t hear me.

“Yes?”

“I… I need to speak to you.”

“I assumed you would. I’ll be at my office.”

With that, he left. The table was more silent, eavesdropping in our interaction.

“I’m surprised to know you decided to do Potions again!” commented Sprout, who sat right beside me.

“Well… Professor Snape was very kind to pay me a visit and persuade me not to drop his subject.” I explained, and the surprised looks in the table told me almost no one knew he did it.  

Except McGonagall, who raised a brow and took a sip of her wine.

“And it cost me a galleon, too.”

“I’m not sure why you bet against him,” said Vector. “He persuaded us all for years, did he not?”

Everyone shook their heads in minute nods of agreement. Again, except McGonagall.

“I was hoping he would have forgotten how to act like a human being.”

I didn’t know what seemed stranger to me. The fact Professor Snape was being so openly discussed, or the fact he had bet with McGonagall he could sway me. Or McGonagall had bet with him that he couldn’t, and he accepted it.

And he got his galleon.

“He’s getting close.” I remarked to the table’s amusement and had my last bite of food. “I suppose I should be going now.”

“Good luck.” I heard Vector say, when she thought I was too far away to listen.

It would be a good term, I felt it in my bones, even as I descended to the dungeons. I was nervous about speaking to Snape again, but this time it was simply over the uncertainty of the nature our relationship.

Should I call him by his first name now?

I wiped the sweat on my palms before knocking on his door, which he opened a couple of moments later to let me in.

“I’m assuming you’ve read the books I’ve suggested by now.” he started the conversation, probably sensing I didn’t know how to do so, and went to sit at his spot, which I took as an invitation to sit down, too.

“I did. I… I suppose my problem is that it’s been four years since I’ve brewed a potion in a classroom. I would feel more confident if I started from the sixth year’s potions, but I wanted to know from you if it’d be possible.”

“That’s an ambitious plan, considering your other obligations.”

“I’m awfully aware of _that_.”

I wanted to close off the sentence with a sir, but I didn’t.

“It’s not impossible.” he remarked, leaning back and resting his chin on his palm. “I do have my own personal laboratory, which I suppose I could teach how to undo the wards on the door. I’m assuming you’ll use your holidays to visit your parents, but you should be fine, time-wise, if you use your weekends.”

Which was, more or less, what Professor Sprout offered me.

“I will be thankful, if you do allow me to use your laboratory.”

“Except…” he said, in a cautious not-so-fast tone. “I would advise you to save the potions you have difficulties for when I’m here to help you. I don’t sleep at the castle, and don’t spend all my weekends here, either. It can be dangerous for you to work alone.”

“Don’t all teachers sleep in the castle?”

“Not the teachers with my kind of bargaining power.” he replied, with a smug smirk.

Fair enough.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I said, with a smile on my lips myself.

“Is there anything else you want from me at this time?”

I couldn’t ask for any more kindness from the teachers at Hogwarts. Including Snape.

Especially him.

“No, I don’t think so. I should head to bed.”

“Allow me to walk you.” he offered, quite unexpectedly.

I missed a beat, but in the end, I replied:

“That would be lovely.”


	7. Chapter 7

Not being sure where I was heading seemed to be a theme when it came to the past several weeks. The way to Granger’s chambers — or should I say Hermione’s — was quite the hike, and I didn’t know what to speak to her. All the other teachers made it seem easy.

Even though I only spoke to her twice, I came to enjoy her company because she was neither antagonistic nor dazzled. People who used to know me tended to hate me still, and people who didn’t, idolized me.

Hermione was a good compromise between the two. I could tell I made her shy, for she was still adjusting to my actual personality, the one I displayed once I stopped rubbing salt in my wounds and overstating my negative emotions, though she also seemed willing to try being in good terms with me, as she was with everyone else.

I appreciated that more than I was willing to admit, even to myself.

“You didn’t tell me got a galleon out of the deal.” she spoke, her voice the only other thing making a sound other than our steps.

I held back a guilty smile, and I took the coin out of my pocket. I flipped it in the air and put it back where it belonged.

“To be quite honest, I only suggested one galleon because I was almost certain you wouldn’t take my apologies.”

“You have a talent for picking the right words.” Hermione said, observant. “For whatever effect you wish to cause.”

“I’m happy to know it doesn’t only go one way.”

“It made you a bit richer, if anything.”

“Something good had to come out of it, eventually.” I quipped, which got a smile out of her.

I wasn’t surprised that Hermione was so easily amused by me. She seemed to get along well with Vector, the only other person in the castle whose sense of humor matched mine.

Vector might not have been involved with the Order of the Phoenix for her own personal reasons, however she was as unforgiving of me ever being a Death Eater as McGonagall, with the downside I hadn’t done _her_ any great favors in the past couple of years.

Not being exactly a forgiving person myself, I understood her.

Still, a shame. She hadn’t been a teacher when I was a student. If there was someone I could befriend, it would be her.

After a moment of silence, Hermione said, tentatively:

“Why don’t you try to get along with the rest of the staff?”

“I wasn’t a happy student here, Hermione.” I said without forethought.

I was thinking about her in my head with her first name and didn’t think to fall back to the usual Granger; it made her flinch. It was either that, or the obvious revelation I didn’t look back fondly on my time as a student. She soon returned to her normal stance, and I continued:

“I’m as uninterested with being in good terms with them as they are in being in good terms with me. I might have exaggerated my bitterness during most of the time in which you knew me, but I didn’t pull it out of thin air. We can’t forgive each other. We can work together and that is all I can ask for.”

She blinked and looked away.

“What were they like when you started working here as a teacher?”

“Far less welcoming. I’m afraid I was a lousy teacher and a lousier head of the Slytherin house with almost no acting on my part, partially thanks to that.”

That made Hermione return her gaze to me, and she slowed her pace, forcing me to slow my own. I wasn’t sure where she’d sleep, but it seemed farther away by the minute. I didn’t mind it too much — I had nothing better to do at home.

“How old were you?”

“Your age, I think. Twenty one?”

“And you were a teacher and Head of The Slytherin House?”

“I was the only Slytherin teacher, so that ended up falling to me, yes. I was already a double agent by then. They already weren’t too keen on welcoming me, and I had to make it worse. And so it has been going on for twenty years.”

“I’m sorry.”

Guilt weighed down her voice.

To be frank, although I had plenty of reasons to despise all the doting she was getting from everyone — me included —, I simply could not. Most of my struggles were my own doing, and I wouldn’t have accepted their welcome, anyway.

And I might have disliked being a teacher at all, however I wanted to give Hermione the best possible treatment. A good term to make up for six terrible ones. Or a good term to have _someone_ not despising me amongst Hogwarts’ staff.

Either way, things looked up for her.

“Don’t feel guilty over me.” I said. “I have no interest in their welcome, and I certainly didn’t have interest back then, when my memories were still fresh.”

“Still, that’s terrible.”

Hermione was too good for her own sake.

 “I dug my own grave.”

She said nothing, and I did the same, until we arrived at her rooms.

“Thank you for bringing me here.”

“It was my pleasure.”

I meant the pleasantry.

“Good night, Severus. I hope you have pleasant dreams.”

Her voice wavered some when speaking my first name, so I remarked:

“You don’t have to call me by my first name if it makes you uncomfortable. Would you prefer me to call you Granger again?”

My perceptiveness surprised her. It quite surprised me as well, but considering she was the first person to offer me genuine friendly interactions, and I wasn’t as close to her as the other teachers were, I wanted to make sure I didn’t overstep any boundaries.

She recomposed herself and snorted.

“Well, it would certainly be more familiar to me if you called me Granger and insulted my appearance or my intelligence, but I suppose we are over that, so we might as well use first names from now on.”

Though, to be fair, I couldn’t find anything to insult about either of those things. I suppressed the thought as soon as it came to me.

I said, amused by her sharpness:

“Fair enough.”

I simply left, and only realized I hadn’t wished Hermione a good night of sleep when I got home.


	8. Chapter 8

It took me a while to fall asleep that night, though I woke up more refreshed than I have ever been in the past three or so years. I couldn’t have foreseen I’d be treated so well. The satisfaction of returning to Hogwarts overwhelmed me, and it also, thankfully, energized me.

The breakfast table was as friendly as the dinner the night before; the difference was that people ate quite fast, and didn’t stay long to chat, for the students were due to arrive that afternoon before dinner. Plenty of last-minute preparations to do, many of which I was unaware of, considering I was a mere teaching assistant starting out on the job.

The table also missed Severus’ quiet presence. His chair remained empty throughout the morning. I figured he wouldn’t eat all his meals at the castle if he returned home every night…

Any other thoughts on the matter were distracted by the fact Harry wrote me back.

_Mione,_

_I’m glad to hear you’re in Hogwarts and not in the other half of the globe anymore. Perhaps we could meet up at Hogsmeade during the weekend?_

_Harry_

_P.S.: Ron said he’d come. I think it’s because he’s dating now and wants to rub it in your face. I hope you don’t mind. And if you do, it can be just the two of us._

Weekend wasn’t far away at all. It was a Thursday. There would be only a day of classes before the first official weekend — and although I would already be busy, I suppose I could take a break for an evening.

The real question was: did I mind Ron coming to rub it in my face that he found someone, and I hadn’t yet?

When I finished eating and headed back to my rooms to respond the letter, the quill hovered over the parchment as I pondered over that.

I might have, technically, broken up with Ron, but I had been as devastated by it as he was. Neither of us could take it very well that we weren’t a match. I doubted we would even be friends if it weren’t for Harry. Liking each other didn’t make up for the fact we had too little in common. Being in a long-term relationship made it all the clearer.

In my teenager years, however intelligent I was, I didn’t have the experience or the maturity to comprehend that. Ron was the one closest to me, who, unlike Harry, didn’t feel like a brother. We were both Gryffindors and Hogwarts’ students; that was enough for me back then.

Ron was unhappy with our relationship too, but he had always been less perceptive, even when it came to his own feelings.

I concluded I didn’t regret the break up at all. Now, how would I feel about seeing him with someone while I had no perspectives on that regard?

As a young woman, I received messages left and right that the thing I was supposed to want the most was a relationship. In all honesty, that was low in my priority list, if it was present at all. My focus was on doing my NEWTs and getting the best grades possible — and if I _wanted_ a relationship, how was I supposed to find someone, being holed up in Hogwarts? 

The fact both of my closest friends were dating, and I wasn’t, couldn’t possibly bother me. There wasn’t even a person I wanted to date, anyway.

So I set the tip of my quill on the paper.

_Harry,_

_I think that it would be perfect. Ron is welcome to come with us._

_Can’t wait,_

_Hermione_

The rest of morning I spent by preparing my very first lectures. Vector had her own lesson plans, though she urged me to improve on them however I saw fit. I requested lunch to be sent to my rooms and moved on to a couple essays that needed some improvement.

And then I took some time to plan my weekly schedule.

I had some wiggle room, considering my work for Vector was mostly grading homework and papers. The only set hours I had were office hours, my own for Arithmancy and time slots available for me to bug my teachers. No one would be looking if I was studying and working as much as I should considering I’d be on my own for the most part, however there was no way I could get away with it.

Immersed in work, I lost track of time. I only realized dinner was drawing near because I heard the commotion of veteran students leaving their carriages and walking towards the Great Hall, even from my window which wasn’t even turned that way.

I hadn’t noticed the silence of the castle, until it was no longer silent. But it would be good for me, to be around people and noise other than animal life and the ocean.

I closed my windows, organized my desk and went to the Great Hall. The only person sitting at the staff’s table was Severus, who I hadn’t seen the whole day. The other teachers were occupied with taming the mess of the veteran students who refused to seat on their respective tables; the Slytherin students were the most organized ones, sitting mostly at their table and talking among themselves.

Because almost no one from the other houses would speak to them, even now.

As if to make a point — and because I did come to genuinely like Severus — I went to sit by his side. I also suspected me trying to calm the students would make the problem worse. An eyebrow of his was minutely cocked, but he eased his face to a friendlier expression when he saw me seating beside him.

“The silence will be sorely missed.” he told me.

“How much you dislike children, exactly?” I asked.

“Not half as much as I made it seem. It’s not their fault if they are loud and messy. Still, I’m counting down the hours for McGonagall to find someone to fill in my shoes.”

“Is it being that difficult?”

“It’s moreso because someone from anywhere else other than Hogwarts would be less than ideal. Not to mention, there won’t be a Slytherin teacher to be Head of the Slytherin House. You can see how that can be a problem. I might do as Vector did and take in an apprentice… A Master’s degree is welcome, but not necessary.”

“Why did you get a Master’s degree in Potions, anyway?”

“You can’t work with Dark Arts at a regular job.” he explained to me. “Unless you are going to teach Defense against it, and I like Potions well enough.”

“I ask you too many questions, don’t I?” I said with a laugh, noticing our conversations so far had been me pestering him with personal questions.

“It’s natural for you to be curious.”

“I don’t actually like children, I don’t think.” I confided him, sharing something about myself for a change. “I became an apprentice to Vector because Shacklebolt wouldn’t let me stop receiving the Ministry’s pension unless I had a source of income.”

“You may want to be certain before you have any of your own.” he said, with his trademark ironic humor, and he seemed to be speaking from personal experience.

I narrowed my gaze, wondering if he had children himself, though if he hadn’t mentioned being a father willingly, I doubted he’d tell me if I asked. I realized I didn’t know much about any of the teachers’ personal lives — if they were married, who they went home to.

Perhaps before I wouldn’t ever have assumed Severus had someone waiting for him at home, but knowing him now, I’d be surprised if he hadn’t. That explained why he seemed so satisfied with himself over being unbound from the obligation of living in the castle.

I became certain he had a family and was a devoted father and husband, which made me all the fonder of him.


	9. Chapter 9

The first weekend of the term arrived within a heartbeat. August 31st was a Thursday, and as such, the first day of classes was a Friday, which I it mostly to myself. Arithmancy hadn’t started yet, so there was nothing to be done about it.

I got some work done ahead of time and went in for the office hours for Transfiguration and Charms. I seldom left my room, though when I did, students gaped at me, and whispered among themselves as I walked past.

I was _the_ Hermione Granger, after all; I hadn’t been successful at keeping my life and my earlier feats private. Even private issues like my break up with Ron turned into spectacles. Thankfully, living isolated in Australia meant the Daily Prophet left me alone for the last several months.

When Saturday arrived, I was eager to meet with Harry, and even with Ron. Eager to be just Hermione again. I slipped out of the castle after the dinner, making my way to Hog’s Head Inn while taking in the scenery, and the pleasantly chill autumn weather.

Ab greeted me with a nod when I went inside. Right away, I was seated at a table with a pint of butterbeer in front of me, ready to wait for a while.

That night might have been one of the few occasions neither Harry nor Ron were terribly late. I gave them a hug each when they arrived.

“H-hey, Mione. How is it going?” Ron mumbled upon seeing my radiance, as he sat down.

“I’m doing well. I hear you’re doing very well yourself. Harry didn’t tell me who the lucky lady is.”

Although being so chipper didn’t come easy to me, I wasn’t faking it. The happiness of having my close friends all in room was genuine. Besides, I just wanted to be in good terms with Ron, even if it meant me being the bigger person and acting like he hadn’t severed our friendship after the breakup.

“Yeah, well, she’s in Ginny’s team, so we were introduced. You wouldn’t know her, since you don’t really like Quidditch.”

I liked Quidditch back in Hogwarts, because of my house and because Harry and Ron played it. My interest in it went as far as that. I didn’t care to know the names of all the players in the Harpies, although I did know Ginny was playing for that team. At least Ron had his interest in Quidditch in common with his new girlfriend.

My well-intentioned interest on her disarmed him, so he said nothing else on the subject.

“You must be truly liking Hogwarts if you’re so happy.” Observed Harry, who barely ever observed a thing.

I could only be beaming, radiating pure joy, for him to notice.

“I am. Coming back when I did was the right. I could only live by myself in the middle of nowhere for so long.” I tried not to phrase in a way that reprimanded them for not coming to visit me. “And things are different when you aren’t a student. Well, a regular student.”

Ron shuddered.

“No offence, but I don’t want to set foot in a classroom ever again. I’m glad Shacklebolt said Harry and I could start Auror training without our NEWTs.”

“Really?”

Harry chimed in:

“Yeah. I wanted to tell you that in person. We start training next week.”

“I’m happy for you two. That said, I couldn’t be happier for myself. All the teachers are so lovely, and I don’t need to attend any classes, in fact.”

Lovely must have been my most repeated word in the past couple of days; I couldn’t help myself.

“ _All_ the teachers?” Ron echoed. “Every single one of them? Isn’t Snape still teaching Potions?’

“I do mean all of them. He… He paid me a visit. Originally, I wasn’t going to take Potions, because I thought I couldn’t bear to be his student again. But he explained himself to me and apologized for his past behavior. So I forgave him, and… He’s truly kind. He just couldn’t show it, before.”

Harry nodded as if that didn’t shock him at all. He went in as a witness for Severus’ trial at Wizengamot after the war was over, in which Severus was deemed not guilty for any crimes he might have committed during his time as a Death Eater.

The memories in the Occlumency lessons weren’t the only memories of Severus that Harry saw. Apparently, he was given all the memories explaining Severus’ role as a double agent right after Nagini’s attack. Severus thought death to be certain for him, and wanted Harry to know.

And that was all I knew.

Harry never said a word about what he saw, outside of the trial, which happened behind closed doors, and whose files were sealed away for good.  

Whatever he saw that day, radically changed his opinion on Severus.

“Mione, what did he tell you?” Harry asked.

“Not much, really. He said that he had to make everyone believe he was a Death Eater pulling the wool in front of Dumbledore’s eyes so Voldemort would believe him to be loyal, that was why he acted the way he did. That he was indeed a Death Eater for a while and defected. He said he doesn’t truly think I’m an insufferable know-it-all, but I could learn how to keep quiet when teachers ask rethorical questions.”

That last bit made me smile at the memory. At the time, I wasn’t in position to be amused by the remark.

“And you believed him?” Ron pressed.

“Well, he did go all the way to Australia to make me reconsider dropping Potions, so yes, I did!”

Again, I was trying not to sound resentful Harry didn’t come to visit me as often as he should, and Ron never once set foot on the continent. Harry took a sip of his butterbeer, his gaze distant.  

I wouldn’t dare ask what he knew of Severus. Whatever he knew, it might be exactly what Severus refused to tell me during that fateful visit. I could live without that bit of information.  

“Good to know he’s treating you well.”

 “He is.” I said, a bit surprised to see the situation put that way.

He was treating me very well, indeed.

“I still don’t like him.” Ron said under his breath.

Well… _I_ did. And I knew arguing with Ron wasn’t worth the effort.

“So, Ron, what’s your girlfriend’s name?”


	10. Chapter 10

I wiped my sweaty palms on my robes. Even though I knew, in my head, there was no way it could be as bad as it used to be, I still found myself unnerved because I didn’t know what to expect from Severus.

He did say he’d rather not be teaching. He couldn’t be worse, but maybe he wouldn’t be much better either, even if he was a perfect gentleman outside of the classroom.

My office hours with him were Monday nights.

I knocked on the door and got no answer. I was about to knock again when it flung open. Severus walked out, holding a pile of parchments. He delved further into the dungeons, and I had no other option but to follow.

“As I promised,” he started. “I’ll teach you how to undo the wards of my laboratory.”

There was silence until we arrived at what was a supposedly empty wall. Severus uttered a few enchantments, and moved his wand about; with that, a door appeared. I remembered McGonagall’s warning about warding my door, which I hadn’t done yet.

“Did you copy that?”

His tone of voice was, as usual, sarcastic. I couldn’t have possibly _copied that_. The jest put me at ease, though. I wasn’t certain he’d be happy spending his Monday nights at the castle, when he was so clearly eager to be home whenever possible.

I still worked under the assumption he’d rather be spending time with his family, whose existence I became sure of.

“Could you do that again, please?”

I got it — or thought I did — the second time. I’d try it on my own door, later.

With that, we went inside. The laboratory was bigger than I expected. Shelves with a rich assortment of ingredients coated the walls. The counters and cauldrons made it so that even four or five people could there with ease. I had no idea such a space existed in the dungeons, and neither did the Marauders when they drew their map.

There was only one tall stool, though. Severus set the parchments he brought with him on the central counter, sat on the stool, and conjured another one, which he set at a respectable distance of his own. With a pat, he invited me to sit on it.

I did so, setting my own materials aside.

“I suppose that we should start with a chat.”

“A chat.” I echoed, amused by his casual manner.

“As far as I’m aware, I’m supposed to be holding office hours, not giving you classes. I understand you are a little behind and thanks to me, you also have difficulties with the subject. That said, I don’t intend to work from the ground. I’m glad you did ask for some reading to do over the summer, because you’ll need it.” he said. “Potion brewing has more to do with the understanding of the moving parts than following a recipe.”

I nodded, hanging on to his every word. I wasn’t sure how no one managed to conclude his insistence in teaching Defense Against Dark Arts was all a ruse on his part, to seem unsatisfied with Dumbledore; for a man usually so deadpan and sardonic, his passion for Potions was genuine.

“Understanding how the ingredients work and the best way to prepare them for your objectives is more important than knowing the textbook by heart. Think of the textbook as a general guideline,” With that, I remembered his annotated book. “And try to be attentive to your circumstances. The moon cycle, the time of the day, even your mood can influence how a potion turns out, and a good potion brewer will work around that. For simple potions, the recipe mostly works. For more complex potions, the ones you are required to know for your NEWTs, it doesn’t work as well.”

I nodded again.

“Feel free to experiment. If it doesn’t work, try again. Like I said, it would be best if you use your office hours with me to brew the potions you find most difficult, however I’d advise against asking my council for everything. It is your independence that you need to work on. Potions isn’t a clear-cut subject like Arithmancy is.”

Although by then I became certain Severus could be a terrific teacher if he wanted to, I lost some hope at doing good in Potions. Experimenting wasn’t my forte.  

“I’m not going to make it, am I?” I said.

“You give yourself too little credit.” Severus replied. “Who brewed the Polyjuice Potion?”

The one in my second year, which we stole the ingredients from his personal pantry. Well, the pantry we knew the existence of, at least. I bit my lip, guilty. I didn’t answer, but of course my demeanor gave Severus the answer to his question.

“When you practice enough, you may even develop the ability to intuit what a potion needs, by smell or by the sight.” He went on. “It might be hard the first times you attempt at trying out ideas you came up with yourself, but it should become easier. Considering you plan on brewing two years’ worth of potions in a single term, you’ll get enough practice, I believe.”

“Well, I’ll give my best attempt, at least.”

“You can start today. I’ll be grading these papers by the desk.” He said, and only then I noticed a desk by the corner. “Do try not to blow anything up.”

I wasn’t ready for that level of independence, for certain. The type of learning Potions required didn’t come naturally to me. My hesitation must have been easily read on my face, because Severus remarked:

“I regretted not taking Divination when I realized the degree of guesswork I had to do for my Master’s. However, we are talking about NEWTs here. The material in those books I told you should be enough, even if it’s not easy for you to be intuitive.”

“Why isn’t Potions taught this way from the get go?” I complained, slipping down my seating place to get started.

“If I were too much of a good teacher, the Dark Lord might have started to think I liked my job. Besides, the NEWTs are standard. We have guidelines to follow when it comes to what and how we teach, which has not been updated in a millennium or so.”

I snorted, as dramatic as he.

“Life is unfair.”

“That it is.” he said and retreated with his papers to the desk.

Well, I wasn’t sure either I’d pass Potions or not by the end of the term, though surely it felt like I’d have fun in the meantime.


	11. Chapter 11

Although my routine was tiresome, I couldn’t exactly say it was rough. My first — and only — couple of classes with the third graders went fine, and the revision I’d done in the past year paid off. Most subjects became quite easy to master; Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures and Potions were the hardest subjects because I couldn’t have studied them well at home, not without a laboratory, a greenhouse, and the actual magical creatures.

However, the teachers were being helpful, and solicit, so I coasted most difficulties with ease.

I was even looking forward to Monday nights. Severus was a good teacher, to me at least; assisting me with my independent studies was more compatible with his withdrawn personality than full-on lecturing.

But, even so, I had underestimated his ability of being understanding.

It was a Monday night like any other. I sat by the central counter, annotating a few things I altered in a recipe for a Volubilis potion, and he sat on his chair by the desk, grading papers; the silence felt comfortable. Sometimes we’d talk, sometimes we didn’t.

I started being able to tell when he was more worn out, and I supposed he learned to tell when I needed some idle conversation.

Then there was a knock on the door. I straightened my back and looked over at Severus with a creased brow.

“The Slytherin Head students know where my laboratory is. In case of an emergency.” he explained to me before making his way to the door.

The Slytherin Head Girl stood there with a student about her age. The second student had her face red, and puffy, and used all her strength not to resume the crying she for certain was doing just a moment ago.

“What happened?” Severus asked, and that question was enough to break down the girl.

I almost wanted to interfere, but I was a mere intruder in that scene; I’d leave, if I could. Since I couldn’t, I remained silent, almost not breathing.

Severus shook his head and took a handkerchief out of his pocket.

“Here, sweetheart. Calm down. Can we speak here, or do you want to go to my office?”

 My jaw was on the floor by the time Severus saw the girl’s positive nod and turned to me:

“You will be fine, I hope?”

“Y-yeah, of course. I’m nearly done here anyway.”

“Close the door on your way out, please. This might take me a long time.”

I rushed him away, to take care of this distressed girl, pretending not to be utterly shocked by the sight of him calling a student “sweetheart”, in the way Pomona would call me “my dear” sometimes.

Though I supposed I was more shocked to see it with my own two eyes than the fact he was capable of being paternal when he felt it to be necessary… I did think he had a family; he might have never mentioned it, however I knew him well enough to be aware some things were precious to him, and he held them close to his heart.

And teachers didn’t comment anything about their life outside of Hogwarts, not even amongst themselves — when I was within earshot anyway.

So, naturally, he’d be able to comfort a crying girl. Perhaps he had a daughter.

I wondered what could have possibly caused a student to be so distressed, however, much like Severus’ family, that had to be none of my business. The occasion kept coming back to me whenever I saw Severus, though our paths didn’t cross much outside of the assigned office hours.

He ate more at home than at a castle, and I often ate meals in my room, too absorbed to socialize. Sometimes, even in the meals we were both on the table, we wouldn’t talk; he wasn’t very talkative around the rest of the staff, and more often than not, I’d be drawn into a conversation and couldn’t pay him any attention.

Although I didn’t plan on asking about that girl and what happened to her, I found out anyway. The following Monday, when I arrived, a gust of warm air hit my face. Severus was brewing something: a cauldron occupied a modest space of the counter, alongside with tools and vials of ingredients.

He read a tattered parchment, sitting near the cauldron, and not his desk, as per usual.

“What’s this?” I asked, plopping on my own stool, and letting my book bag slip to the floor.

“It’s a potion I have to brew for a student.”

“Are they sick?”

He made a vague gesture with his head.

“You could say that.”

Curious, I eyed the ingredients. Cinnamon, parsley... I thought these looked familiar…

“Doesn’t Madam Pomfrey brew the potions for the Hospital Wing?”

“Sometimes I have to do it. Some potions are too complex and delicate.” He took a deep breath and placed the parchment down. “I’m aware you’re going to figure out what this potion is for within no time, so I am going to tell you, and I count on your discretion about it.”

I held out my breath. He looked somber, his demeanor stiff, almost as stiff as it used to be back when he was a double agent.

“This is a potion that terminates pregnancies,” he said. “Sometimes, students fall pregnant. Most of these times, they don’t want to be, and whenever that happens, they should have the choice.”

“I—”

He held out a finger, telling me to keep quiet.

“And I didn’t ask for, nor do I need your judgement. I’m telling you because this potion must stay here brewing for one more week before it’s ready. I have done some improvements upon it to inflict less pain and cause less blood loss, but it does make it that much more time-consuming to brew. If you find this reprehensible, then I will kindly ask you to work on the Potions’ classroom in the meantime.”

I didn’t ask if it was for that student that came crying, because I already knew. Falling pregnant was high up on my list of things I didn’t want to happen to me. I’d like to have a choice, too, if that ever happened.  

“I’m not going to judge you. I’m surprised, that’s all. I didn’t think this happened here.”

Severus rolled his eyes, though not at me.

“You’d be surprised at the number of students, especially pureblood ones, who arrive here without the birds and the bees talk.”

“Wait.” I said, starting out the most interesting conversation I would have in a long time. “ _What_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes this chapter has been brought to you by Potter Puppet Pals


	12. Chapter 12

Severus drew in a deep breath, and I could almost hear him thinking “here we go”, but when he spoke, he didn’t seem annoyed to be talking it through with me:

“There is a surprising amount of child-raising to be done around here. If only being a teacher here meant just lecturing and grading papers…”

I blinked.

“I had no idea—”

“Being Head of the House is a glorified babysitting job, Hermione.” he said. “Besides, locking up hundreds of pubescent children together who come here with little to no information about basic aspects of having a human body is bound to create awkward situations. Most students get here thinking babies are made from a _magic_ ritual. Which I suppose it’s true if you look at it by a certain angle, but it isn’t a satisfying explanation.”

“Well, it’s not much different from how muggle parents explain it.” I said, remembering my own parents first explained it saying it was a _very special_ hug, shared by two people who loved each other very much.

 “Though you have to agree the wizardry community got stuck in time in the worst way possible in some aspects. Some girls…” Severus sighed. “Some girls don’t know what a period is. They simply don’t. I had to make a point of not being the most welcoming teacher, and still a couple of these situations fell on my lap. At one point, I had a first-year student come to my office thinking she was dying because she was having her first period.”

I supposed it would be an awkward situation, though Severus talked about it with ease, as if it was not a big deal. I hadn’t realized the weight of being a teacher for twenty years until that moment; the thought of a Severus in his early twenties trying to navigate these situations for the first time was amusing to me.

Besides, having a wife and possibly a daughter had the power of making a man get used to that. My dad kept the bathrooms of the house stocked with pads and painkillers for menstrual cramps with no problem, living with two women who had periods once a month.

“And so you have to do the explaining?”

“I must. Am I just to let a young girl think she’s perishing from a fatal disease?”

“Of course. I just… No offense, I think you’re lovely, but I wouldn’t want to hear about periods for the first time from your mouth.”

“If I could help it, I wouldn’t be the one explaining that to my students, I assure you. Besides, telling students about contraception is truly the worst part. You haven’t been here for long, and you have light patrol duties, but stay here long enough and you’re bound to find couples who simply do not know what they are doing leads to pregnancy, and simply aren’t aware of how much noise they make.” he said. “Teenagers are… Exquisite creatures with too many hormones on their bloodstream.”

I didn’t reply for a moment, then I said:

“I’m getting surer that I don’t want to teach here by the day.”

I thought I wouldn’t mind it, but that was because I had no clue what else being a teacher entailed. My workload as a teaching assistant was much lighter than that of a teacher, let alone a Head of the House. Of course, I couldn’t have known what went behind the scenes.

I was glad Severus felt comfortable talking about it to me so candidly.

“If I were to teach for the rest of my life, I’d rather not do it at a boarding school for children. I could handle adults, and maybe even children if I didn’t have to live at the school with them.” he said.

“Well, but now you go home every night, don’t you?”

“Most nights, yes. I may have strongly persuaded McGonagall to lighten my workload and extinguish my patrol duties.”

By that, I understood he wouldn’t have returned if she hadn’t accepted those terms, which felt reasonable to me. Although Severus tried his best to do his job, it came at a high price for him, and he had suffered enough for a lifetime. The scar Nagini left, creeping up his jaw and down his neck was a physical evidence of it.

“What do you plan on doing after McGonagall finds a new Potion’s teacher?”

“I plan on not leaving my house for a year.”

“And then?”

“I shall see. What do you intend to do?” he asked of me.

It had to be one of his chatty days.

I shrugged.

“I’m at a loss. All I knew was that I wanted to come back to Hogwarts and finish up my NEWTs. Harry and Ron got to Auror training without the grades, however I don’t want to be an Auror and I don’t think I can learn everything I should know by myself. They can’t either, but they don’t care.”

A corner of Severus’ mouth curled up in a crooked smile. He was trying to hold back his agreement — and amusement — with my observation.

“At the very least, now you know something you _don’t_ want to do.”

“That is true.”

I glanced over the contents of Severus’ cauldron and wondered how many people would disapprove of what he was doing. Contraceptive potions were more commonplace, yet still not easily available or that cheap. Hence why Mrs. Weasley had that many children…

A potion like the one he was brewing could be considered Dark Arts, yet he was giving a teenage girl the option to decide what would happen to her body in the near future.  

“That potion… Would be considered Dark Arts, wouldn’t it?” I asked.

“It is considered Dark Arts. The divide between what is and isn’t Dark Arts is useless. Harmless spells can kill people,” With that I remembered Harry telling me Severus had been choked with soap bubbles. “And harmful spells can be used for self-defense. The line isn’t as clear as people make it out to be. Obviously, it _is_ very hard to think a situation where one would need to use a Cruciatus Curse to defend oneself, for example.”

I hadn’t started my work for the evening, and I simply didn’t work at all that night. One topic of conversation led to another, that led to another… It was hard to keep track of time in the dungeons, and next thing I knew, Severus told me it was one in the morning, and he should walk me back to my rooms.


	13. Chapter 13

I wondered what happened with me and Gryffindor muggleborns. I couldn’t recall a single situation where I lost track of time talking to someone, and yes, not even with Lily.

We wouldn’t have been friends if we didn’t live close to one another and she wasn’t too polite to end a friendship — and I too in love and oblivious to the fact we weren’t compatible, not even as friends.

Which was mostly my fault for socializing with people who thought people like Lily deserved to be wiped out of existence, but even if I hadn’t done that, _and_ believed it too…

With Hermione, something was different. There was much about me I hadn’t told her, yet I felt like she saw me, both the bad and the good. People usually overlooked one or the other, depending on where they were coming from.

“I’m so sorry that I got distracted and wasted time tonight.” she said, eyes on her boots as we walked towards her chambers — with her book of bags slung over _my_ shoulder.

“I can’t say it was entirely your own fault. I get carried away with certain subjects. I will have to be at the laboratory a couple more nights this week because of the potion, so I suppose you could use those occasions to make up for tonight. If you aren’t exhausted, that is.”

“Maybe not _later today_.” she replied, stressing the fact it was early in the morning instead of late at night. “But what about Wednesday?”

“A day as good as any other.”

“Are there any other hours you could assist me that aren’t after dinner? I don’t mind, but I figured you’d want to be out of the castle by nighttime.”

“If everything went according to plan, I wouldn’t even be here.” I said, though, to be fair, it would have been tragic to miss the opportunity of meeting Hermione properly. “Though office hours are by far the least unpleasant thing I have to do here, as I’m sure you can guess by now.”

Hermione smiled, and nodded, looking away.

I swallowed dry and averted my gaze as well. For the most part, I hadn’t done anything to Hermione I wouldn’t do for any other student. I’d travel to another hemisphere of the planet to speak to Longbottom and apologize — in fact, I knew he exchanged letters with Sprout, but refused to finish his NEWTs for as long as I was in the castle.

Though paying him a visit like I did to Hermione would have the opposite effect I desired.

For her, however, I started to go out of my way. I wanted to spend more time with her, and talk to her, because I was starved of friendly conversations. Though there were quite other things I was starved of which didn’t mix well with the fact Hermione grew into a pretty young woman.

I couldn’t stop watching her movements, how her curls framed her face or how her robes danced around her body when she moved. Perhaps many would see her and find nothing special to look at, but to me she was beautiful.

I had to be more careful around her, I concluded that night. She was a student, much younger than me. Her ease with me had only to deal with the fact I was her teacher, and she made a point of being in good terms with all of Hogwarts’ staff.

Instead of being more careful, though, I did the exact opposite.

Wednesday night rolled about, and Hermione walked in the laboratory in jeans, sneakers and a light t-shirt, much like the clothes she wore when I saw her in the summer.

“It gets hot in here with two potions brewing.” she explained herself when she saw the quizzical look in my face. “Don’t you feel hot?”

“I don’t.” I said, aware there were small droplets of sweat forming on my forehead as I sat close to a cauldron which had been atop of a fire for days.

My robes were made of a thick fabric to avoid any damage to me in case of a spill. Of course, I rarely spilled anything. My students, on the other hand… That made my body temperature spike most of the times, which, in turn, made my scalp rebel.

Hermione saw right through me.

“I don’t mind if you roll up your sleeves.”

“You are aware it left a scar, I hope.” I replied.

 _It_ being the Dark Mark.

“Even if it hadn’t. I know it’s there. I understand you don’t want to flash it around for everyone to see, but it’s not my sensitivities you’ll hurt if you decide not to be boiling inside your own clothes.”

I had no problem with the scar left by Nagini. Trying to hide it would only emphasize more — the most I did was stop shaving every morning. The Dark Mark scar was something else to me; if I didn’t need my arms too much, I would have cut my left arm off.

Well, at any rate, it wasn’t my _right_ arm, so perhaps it was still a possibility.

Hermione’s face was still. She could have been talking about the weather. Considering our extensive conversation about Dark Arts Monday night, I assumed that meant she didn’t think I was a three-headed monster.

I stood from my stool and walked towards the desk to leave my frock coat there. I unbuttoned as slow as I could make it, as if giving her time to change her mind about seeing what was left of my Dark Mark, but she simply started her work. I folded the coat and put it on my chair.

I rolled up my sleeves — which was a huge relief — and popped out the first couple of buttons on my shirt for good measure, for I was melting. Who thought of making the laboratories all in spaces without windows?  

Then I sat down at the counter again. Hermione raised her eyes from her notes to my left arm and said:

“It’s so terrible you can’t even see it’s a Dark Mark.”

She was never that blunt, to me or anyone; it was an attempt at putting me at ease by speaking my own language. Which I appreciated, because it worked.

“It is not like I can say it ruined my dashing good looks.” I observed.

“So you _can_ insult yourself as well as you insult others.”

“What did I tell you? My cover wasn’t pulled out of thin air.”

I wasn’t sure when I went from despising myself whenever I saw the Dark Mark to joking about it and making light of being a double agent, but it was a welcome change. I couldn’t change that about my past; I could only make peace with it.

And I was glad to know someone else other than myself could do it, too.

I wished it hadn’t been a pretty student half my age, but nothing was ever perfect for me.


	14. Chapter 14

Something shifted, from the moment Severus’ rolled up his sleeves and sat down to work on his own potion. Although ever since I met him again, I felt I got to truly know him, it was within the bounds of our circumstances: he owed me explanations, and politeness, nothing more. 

I wasn’t kidding myself, thinking that I got close to him.

And then I started to realize I _was_ getting close. I never seen him other than fully dressed or that serene.

At some point, he went to sit at the desk to grade some papers, and I was stuck cutting up some ingredients for a potion I had intended to start the Monday before.

“Your slices are not thin enough.” he said, eyes on his papers.

My sliced-up leeches were thick, as well as uneven. I just hadn’t brewed anything in quite a while and lost all my muscle memory. Besides, I was a bit distracted by my recent realization.

“How do you even know that?” I replied.

“I can tell by the sound.” With that observation, he went towards me and held his palm open. “Let me show you.”

I held my knife by the handle and extended it to him. He held the blade and turned the knife around with ease on his hand, though he said:

“It is common courtesy not to offer knifes by the blade.”

“O-oh.”

I was just all over the place. I didn’t hear or absorb much of what he told me on the subject of slicing leeches the right way; I was looking at him, and _seeing_ him, for the first time.

It was hard to tell how sickly he looked beforehand, because there was no basis of comparison. The extra pounds put him in the bracket of a healthy-looking lean person, whereas before, a strong wind could snap him in half. His face didn’t look so gaunt and sallow anymore.

Besides, the shorter hair with grey streaks on it made him look… Nice. Suited him much better.

I found out the scar on his neck didn’t quite stop at his neck. It went down his chest, disappearing into the closed buttons of his shirt. Hair didn’t grow where the reddened skin was.

Was he a magazine model?

No.

But overall being relaxed and at ease made him eye-catching. Scars and everything.

I wish I hadn’t realized that. I could no longer think of him as I thought about Vector, or Sprout, or McGonagall, or Hagrid. Which was wrong in many, many levels.

“Here,” he said, holding out the knife by the blade so I could get it by the handle. “I’m not going to be tricked into slicing everything for you.”

“My master plan didn’t work then.” I replied, now self-conscious about joking around with him and sharing the same enclosed space.

While he stayed completely unaware of what I was thinking, he went back to his task, and I returned to mine. My sliced leeches didn’t turn out so well, and my potion… Could have gone better. 

Though, overall, I got a good result. I’d go over my notes and see what I could improve on it, later. Somewhere I wasn’t so distracted.

My sudden realization made me quiet with him. As he escorted me back to my rooms, as per usual, back in his full attire, he asked:

“Is there something wrong?”

“With me? No, not at all.” I yawned, for effect. “I’m just especially tired today. I don’t know why. I may be getting sick.”

“You should see Madam Pomfrey before that happens… Unless you scheduled time for it.”

My routine wasn’t impossible, though I truly didn’t have time to for that.

But I wasn’t getting sick.

I was just having strange ideas. And not by Severus’ fault. Our relationship was different because I was an adult and a member of the staff as well, nothing else.

He had a _family_.

“Good point. I’ll make sure to see Madam Pomfrey tomorrow.”

I tried to pretend normalcy when we parted ways, and I went inside my room. I had my own fully-equipped bathroom, though instead of heading into it for my usual night shower, I plopped onto to the bed, face down, limbs spread like a starfish.

Why was I shooting myself in the foot like that?

I wasn’t a stranger to crushes on teachers, but this time around, I rather felt like I was breaking his trust or something of the sorts. He wouldn’t want me thinking of him that way.

On the other hand, I shouldn’t be too hard on myself for it. I’d be stuck in the castle with little to no interaction with single men my own age and who weren’t my teachers; having a silly crush on the youngest staff member other than myself, which happened to be a man I could spend hours talking to and not feel tired, was… Natural.

It would go nowhere, I’d graduate, and move on, as it usually happened with teacher crushes. I wouldn’t dare do anything about it…

Alright.

I could do it. It was nearly Christmas’ time, I’d go back home, get some fresh air, get into perspective.

With that thought, I wondered if I should get Severus a Christmas’ gift. He deserved it, all in all, for being such a solicit teacher and an overall excellent colleague, though I wasn’t sure if I knew him well enough to find him a gift he’d truly appreciate. I wanted it to be something useful, not a cheap trinket he’d set aside and throw in the trash later…

I couldn’t get him a book. He had plenty of those, and most likely I’d get him something he already had. Same with Potions’ supplies, though at least by working on his laboratory, it was possible to tell what he didn’t already have. I didn’t know if there was anything else he liked. I had no idea what he liked to drink, or what he liked to eat…

I wasn’t sure how, but right after I decided not to fan the flames on my own feelings, I spent a good hour trying to think of what to gift him for Christmas, before I finally fell asleep.


	15. Chapter 15

I counted down the days for Christmas’ holidays, so I could go home. I agreed to resume teaching Potions for McGonagall’s sake, but my patience wore thinner by the minute. I didn’t want to be at Hogwarts; I barely had any good memories attached to the place.

I didn’t want to lecture, I didn’t want to deal with children, all I wanted was to be set free, finally.

At least I had been smart enough to set boundaries. I’d go home every night. I’d go home on holidays. No patrol duties. I did the bare minimum as a Head of the House; the Head Students for the most part knew how to run most things themselves, as per usual.

Still, I didn’t think I could handle another year. I was quite lost when I accepted McGonagall’s request. I didn’t know what to do with my life and that overwhelmed me. I wasn’t sure which way I wanted to go yet, however certainly it no longer bothered me.

Money wasn’t even a problem. I could do nothing for the rest of my life and still I’d die with more galleons in my vault — I had to get a _vault_ — than I ever dreamed possible for me.

So why, again, did I take on this thankless job?

It was the last week before the holidays, and I felt ready to snap.

Though my feelings were quite different at Monday nights. When Hermione entered the laboratory, my annoyance escaped me. I still had quite the temper, and as far as I could remember, I had the terrible habit of discounting my temper on innocent people.

But I gave Hermione my word. It wouldn’t be like it used to.

“Before I start,” she said. “I have a gift for you.”

I must have looked crossed, for she spoke again:

“For Christmas? It’s next week. I’ll be leaving for Australia, so I won’t be around to give it to you on the proper date. I thought I’d just give you today.”

“Oh. I… Thank you.” I stammered for the first time in about twenty-five years.

I hadn’t even seen what it was yet. It could have been a garbage can for all I knew, and I’d still be touched. Hermione pulled out of her book bag a case, wrapped in green and golden-foiled paper — with small golden reindeers. It was thin and quite wide, weighed heavier in my hands than I thought it would.

I carefully unwrapped the paper and opened the leather case. Hermione had gifted me a fine slicing knife, with a silver blade and wooden handle. Probably cost way more than I would ever spend in a slicing knife.

Maybe that was the point of the gift.

“I didn’t know what to get you, but I thought you could use a good knife.” Hermione explained, standing before me.

“I didn’t get you anything.” I said, blunt.

“You didn’t have to… I just thought I’d give you a gift to thank you for everything.”

I tested the weight of the knife in my hand and pressed it lightly against my thumb. I didn’t feel anything, though a moment later, blood seeped from the small cut. I took my thumb to my mouth to stop the bleeding.

“This is a good knife.” I told her, my voice muffled.

I must have looked quite ridiculous to her. I didn’t know what to do with my face, my hands, my voice. I couldn’t have foreseen someone who knew me buying a me a gift. Such a thoughtful one at that. Sure, I had knives, but they were nowhere near as nice as that one.

That posed me the situation: I needed to buy Hermione a gift.

“Well, it’s yours now. I’m glad you liked it.”

With that, she retreated to work. I said nothing because as soon as I concluded I’d get her a gift, I also thought I should make it a surprise. I knew where she lived so I could send it over the holidays for her to get it Christmas’ morning.

But then again, she didn’t live with her parents so maybe she wouldn’t stop at her own house… I had to probe the situation not to make a fool of myself.

“Are you going to spend Christmas with your parents?”

She took a deep breath as she checked on a potion of hers she left brewing at some point the week before.

“Christmas’ Eve, yes. For the most part I’d be staying at my house, though.”

“If you moved to Australia to be with your parents…” I asked. “Why do you live in an isolated house twenty minutes away from the closest neighbor?”

“It’s…” A sigh. “It’s complex. Travelling to Australia takes time even with magic so I couldn’t simply live in London. That said, I can’t quite live with my parents, either. So I decided to stay two hours away from them, learned how to drive and got myself a car.”

“I see.” I said, knowing she wasn’t telling me a key information for me to comprehend it. I didn’t want to press the issue, though I also noticed her demeanor growing melancholic. “Did… Did something happen to them during the war?”

“I did. I did it to them. I was forced…” she paused. “Well, I thought the safest route for them would be for me to obliviate them and swap their memories. I made them believe they were a couple of childless dentists who were on the process of moving to Australia. They stayed there the whole war. I thought Death Eaters could get to them and they wouldn’t be able to defend themselves, and that’s… What I came up with.”

Another pause, longer that time. A proper response to her revelation eluded me. I didn’t quite love my own parents, though her love for her parents, the pain and regret, was palpable, so I could imagine how badly it hurt her.

“But they spend over a year with their memories swapped. I had to track their address — and Australia is a huge country — which also took me sometime. So it’s been… Hard to undo what I did. They remember me, just not enough to love me as a daughter. They’re trying their best to remember and going to weekly sessions at the hospital, but the memories are not....” Her voice broke. “Not coming back.”

I bore several heavy burdens in my life, but I could not, for the life of me, see Hermione crying.


	16. Chapter 16

I thought I’d grown a thick skin when it came to my situation with my parents, however it could have been because I only talked about it with Harry and Ron — they didn’t realize how big of an issue it was, and as such neither did I.

The concerned look on Severus’ face made me break.

It _was_ bad that my parents couldn’t remember.

It _was_ bad that I had to tuck myself into an empty house because my parents didn’t remember me enough.

I turned away from Severus to try and control the tears, so I didn’t hear him coming. All I felt was his warm hand squeezing my shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” he said.

I leaned on his direction, and his arms wrapped around my torso, holding me tight against his chest. I let myself stay there only for a couple of moments, and then I recomposed myself. He let me go, but pulled a stool to sit beside me.

“I had no idea.”

“It isn’t as if it’s a pleasant topic of conversation.” I snarked, shying away from his concern, because I knew I’d think too much of it, and it was not what he’d want.

He was a teacher consoling a student. Although we had certainly grown close, it was nothing outside of those boundaries. Severus said nothing, though I could see he was trying to think something comforting to say to me.

“If you want to have the night off—”

“You know I can’t afford a night off.” I said. “And it’s been two years. It’s just… It’s hard around this time of the year. The healers said most memories were lost forever, and I can do right now is build new ones, but… It’s painful.”

They treated more like a long-time family friend than a daughter. I’d go over, and we’d cook dinner for Christmas’ night, and we’d eat that over a couple glasses of wine. It would be good. It would be fun.

But it wouldn’t be like _family_.

Something close to that, yet not quite.

“If there’s anything I can do…”

“Not really.” I cut him off, a bit too fast maybe, so I added, softly: “Thank you, though. I’m sure it won’t be as bad next year.”

He was still very concerned, though he respected my space and returned to his desk. He treated me extra gently for the rest of the evening, and even made a point of going out of his way to talk to me during the rest of the week.

And then I left for Australia, which felt good, because I could tell being around him would twist my head in circles. It was too easy to get attached to his attention.

It was summer in Australia. I spent the couple of days before Christmas’ Eve tanning by the beach, or swimming in the ocean, not even thinking about Hogwarts. I couldn’t take home the work for the subjects I was having the hardest time with, anyway, so a true time off was long overdue.

In the afternoon of Christmas’ Eve, I headed to my parents’ house. I gave them gifts, they gave me gifts. Over supper, which we spent the afternoon cooking together, my mother asked:

“How is Hogwarts, dear?”

The question perked me up. They rarely talked about Hogwarts or even magic. It was hard for them to accept I altered their memories for their best interest. They were wary of magic and its power.

After being tortured with Cruciatus, I was forced to agree with them.

“It’s being nice. The teachers are all being helpful and I’m hopeful I’ll get good grades by the end of term.”

“What do you plan on doing next?” asked my dad, taking a sip of wine. “There is still time to do… What do you call it? A _muggle_ college, if you want to.”

Right.

The night went downhill from there. They wanted what was best for me — as much as they could make themselves care — and the best would be for me to step away from the magical world. I couldn’t.

There was much to be changed, much to be done.

I went to sleep devastated, because, in a way, I used my power to strip them of the choice to stick by me or hide. I concealed information from them for years on a row. Now I was reaping the consequences.

Even if they had all their memories in place, they could still have stopped loving me as they used to. Let alone without recalling me…

I scarcely slept that night, curled up in my bed, letting my regret simmer on my mind. I may have napped for a couple of hours, and then I gave up on all sleep — the sun was rising, and it was a good time to go out of the house.

Later in the day would be too hot even for a swim.

To be fair, I was glad to have picked Australia. Being under sun all the time with a beautiful scenery all around me picked up my spirits even when they were bellow the ground.

In my dining table, a package wrapped in red and green paper waited for me, with a card on top of it.

 _Merry Christmas_ , the card read in a calligraphy I came to know very well.

I unfolded the card, my fingers trembling. I knew he liked my gift, because he started using it instead of his usual knife, but he hid very well the fact he intended on getting me something.

And that he’d send it over to my house on Christmas’ morning. My Christmas’ morning, at that, several hours before the sun would rise in the United Kingdom.

 _I must admit I didn’t originally think of getting you a gift_ , it said, and I couldn’t help hearing his voice while I read. _Despite this being a last minute decision, I hope you enjoy it._

_Sincerely yours,_

_S_

_P.S.: This isn’t to say you are doing badly. I simply thought you’d find this interesting, considering your intuition often leads you astray._

The gift was a book.

_Predicting Outcomes: Arithmancy Applied in Potions._


	17. Chapter 17

Severus and I became friends. Doing office hours with him didn’t felt like true work, because with the books he assigned me and my growing skills in trying things out, slowly but surely, I made my way through sixth year’s potions with little to no input from him.

We’d talk most of the times now, about things he or I found interesting, either it had to do with Potions or not.

I also gave up on all hope of getting over my crush on him, which only grew stronger the more he felt comfortable being himself with me. It was inappropriate. I didn’t nurture it, though I also couldn’t let it go, not with his constant presence.

Well, I’d graduate soon enough, and _then_ I’d be able to move on from it.

He was a married, with a family. It was like having a crush on Mr. Weasley. Or so I thought.

Finding out the truth threw me completely off balance.

Despite my getting much better at brewing Potions, I was having trouble with Amortentia. I moved on to seventh year’s potions, however my Amortentia kept turning out to be a grey sludge. A pink-ish grey sludge, though definitely it was grey.

So I showed Severus that. He tilted his head to the side, over the cauldron.

“It may not look like it…” he said. “But this is quite close.”

“Oh, is it?”

Out of nowhere, he dipped his pinky on the cauldron and tasted the potion.

“You just have to stir it a bit more and add a pinch of anis’ powder.”

“Isn’t it dangerous to taste potions?”

“The most I’ll get out of this is a headache. I shall keep you posted.” he jested.

He went back to his papers and essays, and I did as he told me. Within ten minutes, the potion became blush pink, with mother of peal reflexes, its fumes spiraling in heart-shapes above the cauldron.

Though there was a bit of a problem.

I smelled nothing, and I should have, by all accounts.

“Shouldn’t it smell like something? The color looks right, though I can’t smell a thing out of this.”

Severus looked over at me with suspicion.

“Is that so?”

For the second time within several minutes, he walked over to my cauldron.

“It’s perfect.” he said. “It may be because you’re too occupied to think about… Such things.”

“But…” I stammered. “Do you _smell_ anything?”

He paused, and pressed his lips together. Then, he took a deep breath.

“I smell the hair product a nurse at St. Mungos used. It was strong enough for me to smell it even though I was half-dead.”

“Don’t you have a wife?” I blurted out, my words escaping my lips before I could consider them.

He raised an eyebrow.

“What, pray tell, made you think I have a wife?”

“I… I don’t know…” I stumbled on my words. “I-I just thought that… By your age… And you always want to be home…”

Severus covered his mouth with his fingertips because he was holding back a laugh. He’d smirk or snort, but never laugh. Until that moment.

“You flatter me, Hermione. I like to be at home because even an empty house with only me in it is better than this castle.” he replied when he recomposed himself, and I realized how silly I was being the whole time. “Don’t you think having a wife would be somewhat impossible, considering my situation?”

Well, three years was enough time to find a wife, however it could be he barely left the house, if he managed to dodge the Daily Prophet for that amount of time. How could I have overlooked that for months? I got so caught up with my impression that I forgot the facts.

My intuition did lead me astray often.  

“What else do I have?” he asked. “Do I have kids?”

I never saw him so thoroughly humored, lips curled up in a genuine smile that reached his eyes, glistening in genuine amusement.

“A daughter.” I said at a small voice.

“Sounds lovely, but I dislike children. I’d rather not be a parent in this lifetime if I can avoid it.”

Of course. He was always telling me this. I assumed he didn’t mean it, considering how caring he could be sometimes.

“And… And what about the nurse you just talked about?”

“I haven’t seen her since I was discharged, three years ago. It is a bit pathetic that I smell her hair product after such a long time, and I hope this tells you how close I am to being married.” He went to sit by his desk again. “Sometimes people don’t smell anything with Amortentia. Hasn’t a tan, muscular surfer caught your eye?”

“It takes more than tan and muscles to catch my attention.” I retorted.

Severus was the opposite of those two things, in fact. As was Ron. I supposed I had a type.

“Interesting.” Severus mumbled to himself, and we fell into silence.

I sniffed the potion again. It couldn’t possibly be that I didn’t smell anything. Learning I was wrong about Severus having a family swept me off my feet. The only thing keeping my feelings in check was that delusion of mine.

I wasn’t sure how I was going to fare without it.

Despite my newly acquired knowledge he was single, I remained sure his care and attention were because he felt he owed me. He wanted to atone for being such a terrible teacher, the same way he spent twenty years being a double agent to make up for being a Death Eater.

He sought to undo the harm he did. It just so happened I was one of the people harmed by him… It also just so happened we found each other’s company pleasant, since we had to spend time together, just the two of us.

“I still think I should be smelling something.” I insisted, albeit trying not to give myself away.

“Perhaps the other smells in here overpower the fragrance of the potion for you. Try smelling your potion somewhere open.”

That solution showed me quite quickly why I smelled nothing in the dungeons. Because the potion smelled _like_ the dungeons, where I spent most of my time with Severus.


	18. Chapter 18

I lied.

Though if experience taught me anything, was that a good lie had some truth behind it. I did smell a hair product, and I may have been smitten with my St. Mungos’ nurse, however it was not her hair product I smelled.

It was Hermione’s.

Her hair was always especially fragrant, and I had the chance of smelling it up close when she confided in me about her parents.

And then I found out this whole time we got close, we only did so because she thought I was married, which made her feel safe in my presence. She looked up to me and respected me. 

I… Felt disgusting with myself, and I wondered if she’d distance herself from me after learning I wasn’t safe after all. It would be for the best, really.

Still, I walked her back to her rooms as per usual.

“Since when you’ve been assuming I have a family?” I asked of her.

Hermione pressed her lips together.

“Remember the first day of term? When you told me I should be sure I liked children before having any of my own? It sounded like you were talking from experience. As if you didn’t want children originally, but you became a father anyway. So I just… Assumed. Most men by your age are married and have children.”

“Most men my age also didn’t spend twenty years risking their necks.” I observed, then I sighed. “I do speak from experience, however… I’m not the parent in this situation, I’m the child.”

“What do you mean?”

“My parents were not ready for children. They shouldn’t even have been together. My mother was a pureblood witch who severed ties with her family for the sake of a muggle. Said muggle didn’t know how to deal with being married to a woman much more powerful than he was. And… He shouldn’t have been a father at all.” I said. “If you want to know what my father was like, you don’t have to look very far.”

“But you’re good with your students. I saw you consoling that girl.”

“It comes at a cost. My temper is alive and well, and taming it costs me. Children need patience, care, understanding. I… Can’t provide it easily for them. My father couldn’t, either, and my mother became a shell of herself. It didn’t help that we were very poor. I was unplanned and partially unwanted. I don’t wish that for any child.”

Both my parents were dead, so I didn’t think it was worth talking about them, but I thought it would help Hermione understand my own positions.

“And this is why you wanted to give that girl a choice.”

I nodded, not surprised Hermione figured out who that potion was for.

“She wasn’t ready. She didn’t want to carry the pregnancy to term. I can only imagine the unavoidable resentment she’d feel.”

“Did everything work out for her?”

“It did.”

“I’m glad.”

I couldn’t quite make it out if Hermione would pull away from me or she’d keep behaving as usual. It at least seemed like we went back a few steps: she avoided my gaze. Could she tell what I was feeling? Was her idea that I had a family her reasoning to brush those suspicions away?

Was I being inappropriate?

“Hermione, can you answer me something?”

“What is it?”

“Am I being inappropriate?”

“Inappropriate?”

“Do I make you uncomfortable, somehow? Does the fact you now know I don’t have this imaginary wife you thought of change the way you see me?” A pause. “I completely understand if it does. I wouldn’t even have gone to your house that day, had I known you lived alone.”

Hermione needed a moment to think, her face a closed book.

“You don’t. Don’t you ever worry about it. Yes, I’m shy around you sometimes because… Because I never got to interact with you as an adult before. I never got to know you. It’s strange to me, still, that knowing you now, I… We are friends, aren’t we? I think so. Don’t you?”

“I do think so, too. However… I am still your teacher, and you are my student. Which means I can’t be your friend like Potter is your friend, and if anything I do makes you feel off, you must tell me right away so I can stop.”

Hermione nodded, her shoulders a bit less square. I was glad that I asked and cleared up the situation. My situation wasn’t at all like it had been with Lily, back then. We were peers, I was her age. I knew her well enough to delineate boundaries. I could afford leaving things unsaid.

Leaving things unsaid with Hermione meant the possibility of me majorly stepping over her comfort zone without her being comfortable to shoo me away. I _was_ known for blowing up when things didn’t go my way.

“I don’t think I’ve actually befriended a teacher.”

“I’m _certain_ I never befriended a student.”

Hermione laughed to that observation.

This friendship couldn’t last long. I was hoping she’d graduate, and we wouldn’t see each other again so I could lick my wounds, and hopefully fall for someone more appropriate.

In the meantime, I intended to enjoy the situation as it were. I never thought I’d have feelings for someone other than Lily. I was smitten, definitely. In love was a strong term to describe it, because, of course, I couldn’t get close enough to Hermione for that to happen, however my feelings for her were genuine.

We arrived at her rooms, eventually, and I gave her the bag of books. She pressed her lips again, and let the bag fall to the floor before tiptoeing to pass her arms around my neck. I couldn’t help myself and my hands slithered around her waist, feeling her lithe body underneath the thin clothes.

My lips were an inch away from the nape of her neck, and her smell intoxicated me.

Although I wasn’t a particularly strong man, Hermione weighed like a plume — I hadn’t even noticed her feet weren’t on the floor until she slipped away from my arms and went inside her rooms with a polite wish for me to sleep well.

Correction: I didn’t want to get too close to Hermione. She wouldn’t press her body against mine like that if she knew where my thoughts immediately headed towards. I didn’t even want to think that of her.

If I could choose, I’d not be attracted to her. Though that was out on my realm of choices, I could decide what to do with it.

Namely, pull away, be respectful. I didn’t want to disrespect her, I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable in any way shape or form, and I didn’t want to take advantage of my position of authority.

And despite me wanting out of the castle as soon as possible, I also didn’t want to achieve that by sexually harassing a student I cared for and getting fired.


	19. Chapter 19

I bit my lower lip, eyes shut close. I tried to rub away the images in my head, playing before my eyes like they were a movie: my legs wrapping around Severus’ waist, being pinned against the wall. Slipping with him to inside my rooms.

The warmth between my legs wasn’t from the warm water of the bath.

Thinking he was taken held the reins of my imagination, and now it was no longer the case. Perhaps I wanted to think that all along because I knew my mind would wander. It wasn’t an innocent young girl crush, like the one I had on Gilderoy Lockhart on my second year.

My feelings were complicated and started to run much deeper than that.

My hand slipped down her torso, heading south, even though I wasn’t sure I’d be able to look Severus in the eye after touching myself because of him.

Vector snapped her fingers in front of my face, the morning after.

“Are you even still on Planet Earth, Hermione?” she demanded. “You’re so distracted today.”

Office hours with Vector were the longest out of all subjects. I didn’t have any more difficulties with Arithmancy after studying it by myself for two years, and Vector started to push beyond NEWTs’ curriculum. Most days, she’d bring in a problem we both would take the whole morning to solve.  

Though, that day, I wasn’t doing much solving. 

“We just got back from the holidays, and I think I need another.” I replied.

“Tell me about it.” said Vector, leaning back on her chair. “Don’t get me wrong, I love teaching, but I can’t wait to spend some more time at home.”

“Do you… Do you live with someone?”

“I do, in fact. Although the Wizardry Ministry fails to acknowledge that, I live with my wife. And a couple of cats.”

“I had no clue you were married.”

This was not the thing I had no clue about. Vector saw through that and replied:

“I have more reasons than anybody to keep my private life private, as you can see. I would have loved to join the Order of the Phoenix back in the day, but I was concerned for Susan. She’s muggle. I was already a target for being pureblood and denouncing my lineage for a muggle woman. She wouldn’t be able to defend herself if the Death Eaters tried to come for us. I can’t be with her all times of the day, though I wish I could.”

I understood that feeling very well…

“And how did you two first meet?”

“There was this muggle college I sometimes attended classes and workshops in Mathematics. Muggle do know their numbers.” Vector said. “Susan studied there, and we kept running into each other. Most times, we’d be the only two women in the room. We became friends, then we became lovers, now she’s my wife. No matter what the Ministry says.”

“That’s… Very sweet, actually.”

“We had some bumps along the way, of course. It wasn’t as simple as I’m making it out to be. We were on and off for a while because I was the first woman she dated, and she was scared, and I must admit I had another on and off situation going on at that time, which was also complicated.”

I raised a brow and waited for an elaboration.

“I briefly dated a former student of mine.” Vector explained. “I met her at a bar, five or so years after her graduation. You see, I think I know every single lesbian witch in the United Kingdom because we all go to this one place, which is where I met this student again. It was good while it lasted, but we wanted different things. We were in different stages of life, so…”

Wait.

“But… But were you interested in her when she was a student?”

“Heavens, no way. She has always been a pretty girl, but I barely even noticed that. Teenagers are children to you when you are an adult. I thought she was pretty like people think toddlers are cute. I only got interested in her when I met her as an adult.”

I swallowed dry, almost regretting having that conversation with Vector. Of course in a school for children and teenagers, teachers didn’t date their students, even without the specific clause against it in the work contract.

But I was an adult, wasn’t I? I met Severus again, and this time we hit off in a way I didn’t think to be possible.

“That’s enough for today.” decided Vector. “I’m sure I shocked you enough by now, and we aren’t going to get anywhere with this problem, so we might as well call it a day. We’ll get back on it next week.”

As a supervisor, Vector was way less strict than as a teacher, which I was thankful for. My thoughts were all over the place and I couldn’t focus — I really needed some hours off, especially after learning so much about Vector in one sitting.

However, real life did not give me a break. Severus was in for dinner at the Great Hall later that day, and the only seat available was next to him. I swallowed dry and sat down, hoping my feelings would remain unnoticed under his hawk-like gaze.

He was reading a book — as usual — though he closed it when he saw me.

“I never thanked you for the gift you gave me,” I said. “I hadn’t thought of applying Arithmancy to Potions, even though I should have. Intuiting things is not… My forte.”

“I could see that.” He replied, well-humored, in a thinly-veiled mention of the fact until yesterday I was certain a Mrs. Snape and little Severus Juniors existed. “Though I never asked you how your break went.”

I started helping myself.

“It was fun. But, you know, my parents are terrified of magic. They want me to go to muggle college when I’m done here. I’m certain no muggle college will accept a Hogwarts’ diploma, even if I wanted to do that.”

“And have you thought about what you want to do? The NEWTs are five months away.”

I hadn’t realized how fast the NEWTs were drawing closer. It seemed like I moved back into Hogwarts a fortnight ago, but it was in fact almost the end of January.

“The first thing I’ll do is have a shot of firewhiskey.”

Severus jerked an eyebrow.

“I also celebrated when I graduated from Hogwarts, though I wish I had stopped at one shot,” he said, one of the very few occasions he’d talk about his times before being a double agent. “Neither my memory nor my liver recovered from that night.”

Although by then I knew very well he was a real person who did normal things, it never failed to entertain me whenever I learned something commonplace about him. Getting black out drunk was a common celebration after graduation, or so I’d heard.

As for my own celebration, celebrating I was no longer being Severus’ student wasn’t a surprise to me, though I could never have guessed the reason why.

 


	20. Chapter 20

“Severus…” called Hermione, tentatively. I still wasn’t used to hear her calling my name. “Do you know anything about muggle wine?”

“I know enough to feign knowledge, if I must.”

Part of my cover was pretending to be refined for pureblood, rich audiences — namely, the other Death Eaters. But how refined could be a man who grew up without even proper clothes to wear?

Despite being able to afford it with the wages of a teacher and Head of the House only to myself, I still tended to drink whatever had the most alcoholic content for the least price. In increasingly smaller amounts for my body felt the passage of time regardless of either my life moved forward or not.

“Well, Professor Vector invited me for dinner, and I thought it would be polite to take something? I don’t know. I was never invited for adult dinner before.”

Here was I walking on eggshells about being appropriate, and Vector invited Hermione for dinner. Then again, I never taught an adult. Perhaps it was within bounds of appropriateness to have dinners outside of the castle with students of they were of age; Hermione as staff could come and go as she pleased.

“Isn’t she pureblood? Why would you take _muggle_ wine?” I asked, turning to her as she gathered her materials to leave for the night.

“Her partner is a muggle.”

Which explained everything about Vector. Her resilient distaste of me due to my past, yet her lack of participation in the Order of the Phoenix. She had something to protect, unlike myself back then. The only person I wanted to protect was already dead, partially thanks to me.  

“Besides, the only times I had muggle wine, my parents had bought it for me.” Hermione went on. “But the letter would take too long to reach them, and I need to make a decision until the weekend.”

“If you want my valuable counsel,” I said, rather ironically because I knew next to nothing about muggle wine. “I could take you to muggle London.”

“You could?”

“I _live_ in muggle London.”

“So that is how you avoided the Daily Prophet all these years, uh?” Hermione replied, setting her book bag on her shoulders and heading to the door. I followed her, as per usual, since I already had my robes on and no Dark Mark on display.

“Precisely.”

“I’m afraid I must take you up on your offer, then.”

Which I thought nothing of. I offered out of no desire other than to help her, now knowing it wouldn’t be so terrible to spend time with Hermione in someplace that wasn’t Hogwarts. Not that it would advisable, considering my feelings, though I became at ease with them, appreciating the moment for what it was.

It wasn’t meant to happen.

Though I did wonder if spending time with Hermione other than in Hogwarts meant our friendship would survive after her graduation. By then, I was familiar with the concept of being friends with people only because you had to see them often, which seemed to be the case.

I hoped it wouldn’t, for my sake, considering how slow I got over myself.

“I wasn’t planning on going as far as London originally, though I suppose it makes no difference, except I’ll find better wine. Besides, I’ve been meaning to go on a couple of libraries I haven’t set foot in ages.” Hermione said.

“Muggle libraries?”

“Yes. I… Enjoy reading fiction on occasion. All I’ve done since I got here was studying and grading papers. Harry and Ron said they’d come to visit me often, though of course they didn’t, not with auror training and their girlfriends and all…”

Ah, there was it was. The barely concealed sadness on her voice, which triggered in me the urge to make it better. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that maybe her friendship with Harry and Ron was on its last breaths, even if they went through a war together; I supposed that was a lesson only time could teach her.

The only thing I could do was be there for her.

“If you’d like my company for that…” I offered, unsure of how my presence could make anything better.

“I’d like that, actually. Do you read muggle books at all?”

I didn’t.

“Sometimes.”

“I’m surprised.” Hermione said. “Well, dinner with Vector is on Sunday, so… Saturday?”

The weather was pleasantly warm, with the end of the winter and start of the spring, though it wasn’t warm enough that walking around in my usual jacket would boil me. Despite the grim overlook of growing closer to Hermione, I’d look forward to it.

I hadn’t left the house much since moving to London, though I left enough to know it was a beautiful city. If I could set the whole situation aside, it’d be good for me to spend time in the company of someone who liked me.

“I shall check my schedule and let you know.”

“Ah, of course. Packed weekend plans, uh?”

“I think you know how much cleaning there is to be done when you live by yourself. And unlike you, I have plants to water.”

“You have plants? In your house?” Hermione inquired.

We were barely walking. Sometimes the hike to her rooms would breeze by, and at other times we’d take almost an hour getting there.

“To be a good potion brewer you need at least to be half as good of a botanist.”

Besides, taking care of living beings was a good distraction — as long as they weren’t human beings. The more time passed, the more I wanted to get myself a cat or any other type of independent pet.

Absolutely no dogs.

“So will you have time to come with me?”

Hermione sounded unsure if I was joking with her or not.  

“Of course. I don’t have _that_ many plants.”

Her concern eased and she laughed at my remark, leaning in my direction. If this had happened in any other occasion, I’d assume it was an invitation to touch her back and pull her close to me.

Sometimes I had the urge of cutting her off altogether, return to my previous shell, if only enough to put some distance between us, even moreso since she learned I didn’t have a wife after all.

Because ever since, I started seeing things.


	21. Chapter 21

Many parts of me were exaggerated and twisted to fit this narrative I’d build for myself over the years. One thing, though, was very true to me, no matter the age: the skill of bad decision-making.

I was fine with enjoying my feelings for Hermione in peace, however revealing my single status to her rocked the proverbial boat. I thought she’d withdraw, scared of me. What happened instead was that she grew more comfortable. I was single and living alone, like her. I was more relatable, more on her level, despite the age gap between us.

With this shift in our dynamics, restraining myself was easy still — the same conversation in which everything changed, I learned she just wasn’t into anyone — however dealing with that restrain wasn’t as effortless.

And she was coming towards me in a spring day outfit: her usual red sneakers, a summer dress with a jeans jacket on top of it, not to mention the stylish sunglasses and the elegant mess of curls around her face.

Not that I didn’t find her beautiful in pretty much any occasion, but that morning then she carried herself with the easy charm of someone who knew how good they looked.

I had seen her that way one time, at the Yule Ball, but back then she was just a child to me; now she had put in the effort to get ready just to spend the day with _me_.

See, that was why I couldn’t be as at ease with my hopeless feelings as before, because… They didn’t feel as hopeless, somehow. Even though I was certain it was simply my imagination. After all, Hermione would spend the day outside, being seen by other people. Of course she’d want to look as nice as possible.

She raised her brow at me when she got close enough.

“How mysterious. If I hadn’t recognized the jacket, I wouldn’t even know it’s you.” she said.

I wore pretty much the same thing I wore to go to her place, with the addition of a black cap because my face couldn’t deal with sunlight. Besides, no one who knew me expected me to wear a cap or have facial hair, which meant no wizard who happened to be strolling about would recognize me.

“That’s my point. What do you think the Daily Prophet will say if someone recognizes us today? This is King’s Cross, after all. Wizards come here from time to time.”

Hermione shook her head, and we walked out of King’s Cross, ready for the first stop of the day: the libraries she wanted to visit. The streets were full of people doing the same thing we were doing, enjoying the warm weather and the Saturday morning to walk about London.

I could barely hear Hermione’s voice.

“Merlin, I hate this. The article that went out when I broke up with Ron was… Horrible.”

It wasn’t a simple break-up article, which was more than enough for a couple of teenagers, but a series of speculations as to why it happened, who Hermione would date next, and other such things. I didn’t read much of it, for I supposed it was all plain lies.

“Was it any true?”

“Of course it wasn’t. Neither of us was cheating on the other.” Hermione spotted something across the street and said: “Would you mind if we made a stop for coffee first? I could use a snack.”

“Didn’t you have breakfast?”

“I mean, yes, but a small one. And every time I come to London, I go to this specific coffee shop to get this specific muffin, one of the few times my parents would allow me to eat something sugary. They were dentists, so they were preoccupied with tooth decay and cavities and all that.”

I shrugged, so we went.

It was a small, yet very well decorated and expensive coffee shop, with rustic woods, deliberately mismatched pastel chairs, plenty pots of plants and flowers.

I liked coffee, but the one I brewed myself. Still, not to let Hermione eating alone, I ordered a single shot of espresso, while she ordered a complicated chocolate caffeinated drink and a blueberry muffin.

We sat by a discreet table at the corner. I could feel the stares coming our way. I didn’t look like her father, but I did look twice her age. Hermione didn’t seem to mind it.

“Anyway…” she continued. “That Daily Prophet article just… Made my life that much more difficult. Ron didn’t take it well, and the article didn’t help calming him down.”

Though I knew the answer, I was eager to have it confirmed by the source.

“And why did you decide to break up with the Weasley boy anyway?”

“We didn’t have enough in common, once Hogwarts was over. You know, we were classmates, and Gryffindors, and that the time… It was enough for me.” She said. “I may be smart, but I was a teenager like everyone else. I couldn’t have had the foresight.”

I nodded.

“It’s a hard lesson everyone must learn by themselves.”

“Did… That happen to you? You sound like you have experience on this matter. Did you have a Hogwarts’ sweetheart?” Her tone grew more mocking as she spoke, though she did truly believe I could have had a girlfriend back in my teenage years.

I was a terrible person in my teen years, and looked like the part, too.

“You have too much faith in me.” I said. “You wouldn’t have liked me in the slightest if you had met me back then. No one did, and it was my own fault.”

“What about Harry’s mother? She must have liked you if she attempted to help you.”

Ah, that topic again. Though, this time, I was willing to be more honest about it.

“I may have circumvented the truth that day,” I said. “We were good friends, but it was rather like you and the Weasley boy. Very little in common. All we had in common was the time we had to spend together.”

“So you were best friends.” Hermione said.

She wasn’t very intuitive, though she did know how to put the pieces together, especially now that she became used to me and reading my moods.

“We were best friends. Like I said… You wouldn’t have liked me if you met me in my teenage years. I’m not even sure why is it that you like me now.”

I knew that much. She liked me.

She.

Liked.

Me.

She pressed her lips and shook her head minutely.

“You’re a different person and I like who you are right now.”

“I appreciate it.”

More than she could ever know.  

Our orders arrived and Hermione had the kindness of letting that subject go, even though I could tell my new circumvent around the truth hadn’t convinced her.

This was why the idea of falling in love again terrified me. The idea of having someone knowing me too closely, laying bare my past and my faults and my mistakes even without me saying a word on the subject.

Yet the more time I passed with Hermione, the more I felt it wouldn’t be impossible, after all.

Which meant…

Spending a day with her, away from Hogwarts, scarcely remembering she was even a student of mine, had been a terrible decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to have to stick to a slower updating schedule! Things got busier with my uni and I lost a handful of chapters I had already written :(((


	22. Chapter 22

I was well aware Severus still didn’t tell me the whole truth, though at least this time I could take an educated guess at it. Either he dated Harry’s mother, or he had been in love with her, and I couldn’t guess for the life of me how the paths of a muggleborn Gryffindor and a Slytherin who used the word mudblood would cross.

Then again, Lily did marry the man who harassed her best friend in which and every way possible so maybe she was just blind to the faults of the guys she associated with.

However curious that subject made me — Severus was the only survivor of that group of people, after all — I concluded it was best to let it go. Knowing it all at this point wouldn’t do any good but quench my thirst when it came to Severus’ past.

Which, I already knew, wasn’t pretty.

He _did_ become a Death Eater on his own accord.

Sometimes I remembered that fact and wondered if it shouldn’t make me wary of him. If I wasn’t Lily all over again — ironically, considering I, too, was a muggleborn Gryffindor —, and he’d hurt me in a fit of anger if I got too close.

“Do you need help with anything?”

I snapped back into reality. Who knew for how long I had been staring vacantly at a shelf? I shook my head and returned the bookseller’s gaze.

“Oh, no, I just got distracted for a moment.” I smiled. “Thank you.”

The bookseller was a man in his mid-twenties, I’d guess, with curly brown hair and blue-rimmed glasses. He smiled back at me, and said:

“If you are looking for anything specific, I’ll be right at the counter.”

His smile dropped some, and I heard steps coming from behind me. Walking around town with Severus in tow was an interesting experience; it was like walking with a six feet one inch shadow, for he walked a step or two behind me, hands in his pockets. 

I could tell people assumed we were a couple. At the coffee shop, the waiter handed _him_ the check even though I had spent the most money.

“Did you find anything you like?” he asked, ignoring the bookseller’s presence, who just walked away slowly, as if not to be noticed.

“I got distracted and I wasn’t even looking. But you have found something, I see.” I eyed the cover of the book in his hand. “Poe. Why am I not surprised?”

He shrugged, and stayed put, waiting for me to lead the way around now that he was done, which I did, walking between the shelves and reading the titles.

“If you’re trying not to be recognized…” I said. “Why is it that you still only wear black?”

“It matches my mood.”

“Right.”

“And I think the clothes and the cap are enough to throw people off my scent.” he elaborated. “Since I haven’t been seen without my teaching robes in two decades.”

“The stubble helps.” I offered.

Besides, Severus put a glamour obfuscating his neck scar. I could see it because I was familiar with how it looked. For a passing stranger, it’d be invisible.

“I’m not certain how I managed to gather the will to shave every morning.”

One wouldn’t take Severus for a jester, but it was actually funny to speak to him. He always had an ironic remark ready to go about any subject. Besides, he seemed to know a little bit about everything.

I liked Harry and Ron, though deep, intellectual conversations were not the main forte of our friendship, and I hadn’t realized how much I missed that in my life.

I wasn’t sure how wise it would be to continue being friends with Severus, however. The tight grip on my feelings escaped me the more I interacted with him. He wasn’t married and wouldn’t be my teacher in several months’ time.

Despite my feminist philosophy, I hadn’t truly pursued a man, and I didn’t think I had the skills for it — not for a man like Severus — and I was certain my efforts wouldn’t be welcomed. I wasn’t a match with his taste for women, clearly.

The fact I toyed with the idea by itself was evidence enough of how deep I was into my own delusions. Again.

“Have you ever read into muggle science? Like Physics and Chemistry?” I asked of him.

He shook his head in negative.

“It might surprise you to hear of a topic I didn’t read into before, but I don’t think I have.”

“There’s a science section here, upstairs.”

I had to struggle with the urge of simply placing a hand in the curve of his elbow while he walked beside me; in the streets, he walked a step behind, giving me space, but this particular library was spacious, spanning two levels of the building, and he eased some into walking closer.

His first pick was a Chemistry book — unsurprisingly — but the first chapters were of the structure of the atom, which I came to know was a series of probabilistic equations of where the electrons might be, not an actual structure.

“And this is what you were taught in muggle school? No wonder you do well in Arithmancy.”

“I didn’t learn it like _that_.” I retorted. “Of course we were fed a simpler version.”

“Obviously.”

“Did you go to muggle school?”

He put the book away and leaned on the shelf to speak to me.

“No, I learned the basics with my mother, at home. She didn’t want me to go to muggle school, though now I see how it might have helped me.”

“With Arithmancy, at least.” I said. “Do parents not teach their children to add numbers?”

By then I was well acquainted with my role as a teaching assistant. The students’ difficulty was moreso because they haven’t been introduced to mathematics than anything else, though it used to be worse at the start of the term.

“See, I did tell you the students go to Hogwarts without the simplest concepts in mind.” He paused, a dramatic beat for his punchline. “Like knowing how to pick muggle wine.”

I gasped in pretend shock.

“Severus, you are _so_ mean.”

Though I wasn’t truly mad.

“I’m so sorry.” he said, and he wasn’t truly sorry, either.

I caught myself acting like those girls I used to sneer at, pretending to be mad and giving empty threats.

“I’m not going to ask for your help again, just so you know.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“You’re not.” I protested.

“You have to admit it was a good joke.”

I didn’t mind it all, in fact. I always knew he wasn’t naturally a nice person, though he had been walking the extra mile to be very polite and gentle with me. It was good to see him not tiptoeing around me any longer.

In moments like those, I could almost think, that maybe, just maybe…

Something could happen between us.


	23. Chapter 23

Seeing Vector in common muggle clothes was a shock to me. She wore dark slacks and a light cream sweater and raised her brows in surprise when I gifted her the bottle of wine. After a quick read of the label, she said, under her breath:

“And it’s a good one, too.”

Severus did the picking, actually. I managed to trick him into doing my work at least that one time.

Susan, Vector’s wife, was a blonde-headed Valkyrie. I couldn’t help feeling underdressed in her presence: she wore a pencil skirt, heels and a button-down shirt as if ready to go to a fine restaurant.

“You’re not underdressed,” Vector joked. “Susan is just always overdressed. You imagine the surprise of the Maths department when _I_ whisked her away.”

Their house was too spacious, a two-story suburban house quite like the house I used to live with my parents, a house for people who wanted children. I took note of not breaching into that topic unless they did it first.

But why would a twenty something years old even talk about it, anyway?

“So you had a lot of competitors?” I asked of Vector, as we set up the table together. It did feel like a dinner among friends. Everything was casual, except Susan’s outfit.

“Oh, they weren’t even running the race, dear.” she replied, from the kitchen.

Once we sat down to eat, she said:

“You might be the first student of Septima I have the chance to meet. She met quite a few students of mine, though I suppose it’s a completely different thing when you teach children.”

“Well, they can’t bring a bottle of wine, so I don’t see the point in inviting them for dinner.” Vector remarked.

Susan laughed, and touched Vector’s arm, a small gesture of affection. I was so happy for them, yet also very jealous. Being in a relationship was never a focus of mine. Still, at least once I would like to experience reciprocal affection like that. Not a relationship out of convenience and teenage hormones, but mutual appreciation and devotion.

I sipped on my glass of wine, and remembered of Severus, however out of my range of possibility it was for that to happen with him.

“So you’re a muggleborn, right?” asked Susan. “How did your parents take it when they found out you were a witch?”

“As well as anyone could, I think. Most children show signs, yet I didn’t, so it was a complete surprise for me, too. I didn’t even want to leave my old school, at first.”

“When Septima told me she was a witch, I thought she was playing a prank on me. Then she made all the furniture of my apartament float. I saw Diagon Alley, and we even went to Hogsmeade.”

“I don’t think I could handle dating a muggle.” I said, carefully.

“And why is that?”

“She’s straight.” Vector pointed out.

It was all explanation Susan needed.

“Ah. Right. Men wouldn’t take it very well. I… I did feel scared. Septima can do much more than I can.”

“That’s nonsense. Maybe a couple of centuries back, that would be true, but now? With technology? Muggles can do everything a wizard can, and better even! We are still relying on owls when you can talk through voice to someone on the other side of the world.”

I didn’t want to argue Vector’s point. Technology was amazing, but a witch could still, for example, erase a muggle’s memory without asking, if they wanted to. That was too much power to have over someone else. I loved the muggle world and everyone in it. After what I did to my parents, though… I couldn’t trust myself.

“Okay, that did help my ego.” Susan relented.

Vector sipped her wine after taking a bite of her dinner.

“This is such a good wine. You picked this yourself, Hermione?”

She knew I didn’t. I barely drank.

“A friend picked for me. He is more… Experienced with this kind of… Thing.”

“A friend.” Vector said, after exchanging a suggestive look with her wife. “You said you wouldn’t date muggles, though.”

They were too experienced and I, too transparent. I couldn’t control the tone or inflection of my voice. Such a situation never happened to me and I didn’t know how to deal with it.

“Leave the poor girl alone, Septima. You know how people are these days with their casual dating.”

I hadn’t told them a thing, yet they knew as clear as a summer day. As long as Vector didn’t find out who I was talking about, I supposed it was okay. Trying to hide it would make me seem guilty. I did feel guilty, but they didn’t need to know that.

“He’s not a muggle, but he knows his way around, that’s all.”

“I want to meet him, someday, if it ever goes somewhere.” Vector said.

“I doubt it.”

“He’s not into you?”

I shook my head in negative. Susan snickered.

“Ah, he must be!” She said. “You asked him to pick a wine for you and he did it just like that? You know… Men can be good friends, and I’m not saying he’s doing what he’s doing to get to your pants…”

“But he’s doing it to get to your pants. Just so you know.” Vector cut in. “Maybe he’s shy and doesn’t know how to say it. Or he’s intimidated. You’re a war hero, after all. If he’s not a muggle, then he knows who you are, what you have done.”

“I… Genuinely don’t think that’s it.”

Thank Merlin I couldn’t blush that easily, not with my skin tone.

“My point is, if you want advice from a woman you’ve met an hour ago…” said Susan. “You should make a move, if you’re interested. I assume you are, otherwise you wouldn’t be looking for reasons to speak to this friend. These types of guys can’t make a move for the life of them. They’ll dance around the subject for years, if you let them. _Someone_ needs to have the guts.”

“Do you think so?”

“I mean, that’s what happens to us women most of the times.” Vector said. “We become friends, then best friends, then we are living together as best friends, and the friendship goes on and on, no one makes the move.”

“But I did.” Susan added, proud. “And now here we are.”

“To be honest… I just thought you were straight.”

Susan shrugged.

“I thought so too.”

At the time, I felt as if I shouldn’t have spoken to Vector and Susan about my feelings.

I didn’t need their advice steering me in the wrong direction, for I was already heading there on my own accord.


	24. Chapter 24

“How was dinner with Vector?” Severus asked, absent-mindedly, leaning back on his chair with a book. He didn’t seem to be in the mood to do any work.

To be fair, I wasn’t, either, though unlike him I had no choice on that matter. NEWTs were approaching fast, and with Potions, I still had quite some work left to do. I had to finish up the seventh year’s potions and perfect some others I didn’t get totally right yet.

“It went fine.” I said, as I stirred the contents of my newest potion. For a first try, it went as well as I could expect. “They loved the wine you picked, so thank you for that.”

“Does she know it was my pick?”

“No. I mean, she knew it wasn’t me, but I told her it was a friend.” I paused and turned to Severus. “You two don’t get along too well, do you?”

Which was a shame. They had a matching sense of humor, and both were brilliant in their designated areas of expertise.

“I don’t get along well with anyone in this castle, Hermione. Except for you.”

I bit the insides of my cheek, with Vector and Susan’s advice stuck to the forefront of my brain. I didn’t think their analysis of the situation was quite correct, though I had to stop kidding myself about one thing: my friendship with Severus went beyond him trying to be a good teacher to me to make up for the past.

Though I thought his undivided attention was fair. I was the only person in the castle in actual good terms with him; and I may even be his only friend. He never mentioned how he bid his time outside of Hogwarts. At first, I thought it was because he didn’t want to tell me what he did with his free time, however it could be because he didn’t anything other than sit at his house.

Severus went on, eyes not leaving his book:

“You said it yourself, her partner is muggle. Of course she’d have a bone to pick with a former Death Eater. I may be more pleasant than I let on at first, but I still don’t have the power to charm people into forgetting that.”

“It’s not possible that at least a few people can deal with that fact.”

“Some forgive me too little, others forgive me too much. You can understand, I hope, why I wouldn’t want to be around people who make light of my past as a Death Eater.”

I turned back to my own work for several moments.

“So you are just… Alone? Most of your time?”

Severus put down his book and I heard him shifting on his position.

“I brought it on myself. Not that I liked being around people much back when I had a choice on the matter. It isn’t terrible to bear this particular consequence of my actions.”

“You said you don’t have a wife,” I probed. “But don’t you think about being in a relationship?”

Perhaps it was too risky of a question, however I was confident he wouldn’t cut me off. Or at least obfuscate the truth, as I observed him do sometimes. My point was that I wasn’t even sure if he wanted a relationship or even thought about having someone in his life at all.

I looked at him and he was observing me with his head tilted, eyebrows creased in curiosity.

“Vector and her partner are very happy together, so I was thinking about it. I mean, some people don’t care about it and are also very happy in other ways, but… It seems sweet.” I explained myself.

“It seems an unlikely possibility for me, considering my circumstances, which you are well aware of.” Severus replied, after careful measure of his words. It wasn’t a no, at least. “Do you think about that? I assume not, considering you were of the few people I’ve met who didn’t smell anything with Amortentia.”

“Oh, I did smell something after I left the room. It was weak, though. I couldn’t figure out what the scent was.” A comfortable circumvent of the truth. “And I’d like to have a partner, yes, but… You know, I feel sometimes people get together because it’s convenient or because they’re supposed to. I suppose what I truly desire is to meet someone who will make me want to be in a relationship with them.”

My relationship with Ron had been out of convenience and teenage hormones. I didn’t want to do that again. Unfortunately, my feelings for the time being were directed to someone who seemed unreachable to me.

“I have no doubts you will find this person.”

“Well, the real question is if they’ll want me back.” I remarked.

Severus returned to his reading with a snort.

“If a young woman like you feels hopeless, you can imagine the outlook for someone like me.”

The implied compliment didn’t pass by unnoticed.

“You’re still young.” I said.

“Most people at forty-two are well into a marriage, as you have noted yourself.”

Wait…

How could I have forgotten his birthday? While researching who the Half-Blood Prince may be, I stumbled upon the news of his birth. January 9th. It went completely over my brain.

“I forgot your birthday.” I said.

“You know when my birthday is?”

“January 9th, isn’t it? I completely forgot!”

“Hermione, you’ve already been kind enough to me. And I don’t particularly care for my birthday, at any rate.”

“Still!” I protested.

“By now, I’m well acquainted with your stubbornness, so I assume you will show up with an expensive gift next week.”

“I’d… Offer you a dinner, if I lived closer.”

A long pause.

“Come help me cook dinner sometime, then. And eat, too, while we are at it. If it doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable to come to my house, that is. It isn’t as if I know many people who’d want to celebrate another year of me being alive, so it’d be just… Us.”

“It’s fine by me.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to—”

“Make me uncomfortable.” I ended his sentence. “It’s alright. Don’t we spend a lot of time just us in here already?”

I didn’t think Vector was right because, if she were, then Severus wouldn’t be reiterating again and again he had no second intentions for he was my teacher still.

But…

If he weren’t my teacher, what would he think of me?


	25. Chapter 25

“You look like the cat that ate the canary, Hermione. Did something happen with that friend?”

Almost nothing escaped Vector.

“I… I’m still not sure if the case is how you put it.” I said, careful. “But he did invite me for dinner at his house.”

“Just the two of you?”

“Y-yes.”

Vector snorted and leaned back on her chair.

“Pick a nice set of underwear, is my piece of advice for you.”

“It’s not like that. He made sure to let me know it was a friendly invitation and nothing else.”

“He’s afraid you’ll reject him.”

Vector could give me better advice if she knew who I was talking about. The person I talked about was under a specific clause forbidding him from dating students, which was reasonable. I didn’t even want to do anything when it came to my feelings while I was still his student.

All I wanted was to know what could happen after my graduation.

Though most of the times I felt like a clueless twenty-something years old with little experience and maturity to offer a man much older than myself, even after being done with Hogwarts.

“It could be.” I relented, to cut the subject short.

Still, when the dreadful day arrived, a couple of weeks later, I picked a nice pair of panties. Wearing nice lingerie made me feel more confident, even without the prospect of anyone ever seeing it. I gave up wearing bras long before, when I noticed it wouldn’t come a time when I’d actually need them.

I also picked another summer dress and ballet flats, despite it still being spring. Living in a warm country drastically changed my wardrobe. I’d be inside, anyway. I hoped his house had a nice heater…

He lived in a townhouse in a silent middle-class neighborhood of London. It suited him. Everyone minded their own business, and a townhouse was more than enough space for one man who wasn’t family-oriented.

I swallowed dry when I knocked on the door.

He answered a couple of moments later.

“I completely forgot to ask you what is it that you drink.” Was the first thing he said as he let me in. “Since you don’t drink alcohol very often. Juice, maybe?”

“Juice is fine, actually. Thank you.”

His living room was stacked to the brim with books. Tall wooden shelves covered nearly all walls. He noticed my gaze, and said:

“I used to live in an actual house. Adjusting to the smaller size is proving itself to be more troublesome than I thought at first. This is not even all the books I have.”

“Really? And you read them all?”

“Some are for consultation, if I need it. Other than those… Yes, actually. I don’t have much I can do with my free time.”

“Merlin.” I said, and realized I still had my jacket and my purse on. “Hm, where can I put my things?”

“As you can probably tell, I don’t get many visitors, so you may need some patience with me.”

With that observation, he gestured to help me get out of my jacket. His fingertips brushed against my shoulder blades as he did so. He was careful not to touch me, so anytime he did was worthy of note to me.

We went to his kitchen afterwards, a clean space with all the necessary muggle utilities. He even had a somewhat fancy coffee machine.

“So what is the menu for the day?” I asked of him.

“Do you like chicken breast? I’m afraid I can’t have fatty meats or overly seasoned food anymore. Living on sleeping potions and painkillers for two decades wasn’t… The best thing to happen to my body.”

“I’m sure whatever you cook will taste excellent.”

“Please.” Severus said, opening his fridge. “You must have missed the part where I said I can’t have overly seasoned food.”

“Do you have any other aftermath symptoms?” I said as I watched him select ingredients and set them on the counter beside the refrigerator.

“My sleep schedule is terrible. I can’t speak for very long or do it loudly. My left leg doesn’t have its full range of movement due to nerve pain. What else…?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Do you think you can handle cutting up some ingredients for me?” he asked, taking a blunt turn in the subject.

“Sure.”

I had worked with him on the room watching me, but I had never done anything _with_ him. He passed me a knife, and a cutting board, and told me how he wanted me to cut up the vegetables.

I agreed to help him with the dinner, but I was moreso watching him.

Either way, it was a quick meal to cook. Soon, I’d be sitting on a countertop with a glass of orange juice, while he stood beside me with a glass of wine, as we waited for everything to cook properly.

“Isn’t bad for your leg to stand for a long time?” I asked.

“Not necessarily. I can’t lift it at a degree wider than forty-five, though. It isn’t much of a problem for me since I don’t plan on dancing on a ballet recital anytime soon.”

I laughed at the outrageous idea.

“Well, that one less possible career for you after you leave Hogwarts.”

“A shame.”

I couldn’t properly think of things to say, not with him standing so close. The arm he was resting on the countertop was almost wrapping around me for the lack of proper space. If I gestured too widely, I’d bump right into him.

Still, I didn’t quite want to leave my position, for I noticed his eyes weren’t holding my gaze the whole time, although he was looking at nowhere else but me.  

His work contract didn’t say it was forbidden to _look_.

Besides… It felt thrilling to catch a crack on his unwavering politeness around me. I might not have what most people thought of womanly curves, but I was a woman, nevertheless. And I wanted to be seen as one.

By him, at least. Who I knew wouldn’t do anything I wasn’t perfectly comfortable with, even if it was just a thing friends did to each other on the regular.

He stepped away.

“I hope nothing has burned.” he said, going to check on the food which I knew was nowhere near that.

I chewed on my bottom lip.

Severus was definitely shying away from me.


	26. Chapter 26

This couldn’t continue.

I was burning, nay, I was _aching_. And she had no idea.

My personal resolve in stepping away from Hermione wasn’t because I felt as if I couldn’t control myself. On the contrary, the idea of doing anything to her while she was still under my care disgusted me.

The biggest problem with it was that the deeper I fell, the more I knew she wouldn’t be that close to me should she be aware of how she made me feel. Besides, the longer I fed into my own illusion, the longer it’d take me to get over it. The more painful it’d be.  

I wouldn’t want to put her in such a position, and I didn’t want to put myself though more misery than what it was strictly necessary.

“This actually tastes really good!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Why is it that you sound surprised?” I said, trying to act normal, at least for the rest of the evening.

I wasn’t going to let the situation go on for another day, though at least I wanted to enjoy one final evening before I put an end to things. The fact I thought there was something to put an end to was evidence enough I needed to distance myself.

My dinner table was miniscule, for I never thought I’d receive someone over for dinner. The naked skin of Hermione’s leg was brushing against me and that alone was driving me insane.

“I don’t know. You said you couldn’t handle spices and I thought it’d taste bland.”

“Well, I still ought to enjoy _something_ about my life, shouldn’t I?”

“Don’t be like that. You enjoy me.” Hermione said.

Entirely too much, my love.

I pressed my lips together.

“Two things, then.”

“If you keep this up then it won’t be long until you can’t count on your fingers.”

I _definitely_ could not count on my fingers the list of unspeakable things I’d love to do to her.

“That’s my goal.”

She flashed me a smile and sipped on her orange juice.

Perhaps I felt way worse because her behavior was tip toeing the line of flirtatious. Yes, we were alone most of the times we’ve interacted, though we were never alone in a place that wasn’t Hogwarts.

I didn’t think she wanted me to see her banter as flirtatious.

I also didn’t think she wanted me to notice how she never had a bra on and how thin her dresses were. Or how delicious she smelled from up close.

She wouldn’t want me to sometimes wish I could slip my hand underneath her clothes to feel her skin, or that I could kiss her hand, or place my hand on the small of her back.

Hermione wouldn’t look me in the face again, if she knew all of that. Why would a smart, well-read, pretty young woman like her want to do with a middle-aged emotionally and physically scarred man who got close to her in such a way while in a position of authority?

For all I knew, she found me disgusting that way. And I couldn’t blame her for that.

As I ate and tried to reply to her in my usual manner, I concocted a way of, perhaps, putting some distance between us that wouldn’t sound like me ending the friendship for good.

“Hermione, I wanted to suggest something to you.”

“Okay. What is it?”

“I don’t think you need my presence in the laboratory anymore. You’re done with all the potions by now, aren’t you?”

Her face dropped some.

Oh Merlin. That was going to be hard.

“Why?”

“I won’t be with you when you’re taking your NEWTs, that is why I’m suggesting this. I’ll be at my office, which is on the same hallway. I have the feeling it will be constructive for you to work alone.”

“But I work alone every other night of the week.” Hermione said, a bit upset. “I get it. You don’t want to do it anymore. You did say you never liked being a teacher.”

“Teaching you has been the most pleasant thing I’ve done this year.” I reassured her. “Though don’t you think it’d be healthy for me to… Distance myself somewhat?”

Hermione was wrong about me. I _didn’t_ know how to pick the right words when it mattered.

“This isn’t about teaching, is it, Severus?”

“No.” I said. “Yes. I… Hermione, it’s not that I want to stop being friends with you. I just think I should step back a bit.”

“But…” Her voice trailed off and she tried to hold herself together. I didn’t think I mattered to her that much. “Why?”

“I’m your teacher, that’s why. Perhaps it’s not forbidden, but I do think it’s unwise for us to be close friends. I… Please don’t make that face at me, I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

She was truly holding back tears. How much she cared caught me off guard, and that scrambled my plans for that conversation.

“Don’t make me say it. Please.” I pleaded.

“Say what?”

I took a deep breath. I hated talking about my feelings, let alone of such nature, however I thought I should be honest so Hermione would agree with me and not be sad about it any longer.

“Hermione, the reason why I think I should put some distance between is because… I don’t see our friendship as innocently as you do. I don’t think I see you in the same light you see me, so it’s unwise to keep this level of closeness. You are under my care, I should remind you.”

At the very least, I could attest I became a better person. I’d never be so open, however Hermione deserved to know what and that, to me, was way more important than holding my feelings close to my heart. She wasn’t going to fall for half-hearted explanations.

Her face became unreadable. She sipped on her glass again, and said:

“For four more months only.”

I played the conversation in my head many times before I first opened my mouth, and still didn’t foresee that observation.


	27. Chapter 27

 “What do you mean by that?” Severus asked, careful.

“What I mean is… You talk as if I’m going to be your student forever.”

The cat was out of the bag. I would never have thought it’d make the leap by Severus’ own doing, always prim, proper and perfectly decent. If I had somehow guessed he developed feelings for me — which was insane enough by itself —, I still wouldn’t have guessed he’d confess them.

But he did both things.

I never felt so glad to be wrong.

My heart drummed against my ribs, yet I kept my face as still as possible. Almost crying in front of him had been enough embarrassment for one night, however I did come to care a great deal about him, so naturally him wanting to step away from me was very upsetting.

I thought he had seen through me and wanted to step away as to avoid rejecting me in the future.

I added:

“And you’re dead wrong on your assessment on how I feel, I should add.”

His eyebrows were creased as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

 “Excuse me. _What_?”

I took a sip of my juice and may have batted my lashes a bit.

“You do know that as Hogwarts’ staff, I had to sign the same contract you did, I hope. I didn’t want to put you in an awkward position, either, so I have been careful. Or I tried my best, at least.”

We stared at each other in silence.

“For how long?” he asked.

“Longer that what I’d like to admit right now, considering I’m sober. I will say it started before I even knew you were single.”

The shock was so great the air in the room was heavy. Neither of us expected that outcome, and we didn’t know how to deal with it. We didn’t know how to navigate around each other.

And Severus wasn’t believing me.

He didn’t think much of himself at all and thought everyone agreed with him.

“Remember that Amortentia you helped me fix? By then I thought for certain I’d smell something that would remember me of you.” I said. “I couldn’t smell anything in the dungeons because it smelled just like the laboratory. It smelled like you.”

He nodded, and the corners of his lips started to curl up in a mischievous smirk.

“I now must confess I have lied to you. I also… Smelled you. Whatever is it that you put on your hair that smells like coconut and flowers.”

“Oh.” I exclaimed, perking up on my chair. “Really?”

“I wasn’t about to admit to a student I smelled her on an Amortentia potion, was I?”

I bit the inside of my cheeks and resumed eating my dinner. It was the only thing I could possibly do, considering the whole sticky situation. Severus didn’t; instead he watched me, with the same analytical gaze he had whenever he saw an interesting problem.

“You _were_ flirting with me just now.”

“I’m sorry.” I said. “I shouldn’t have.”

“I shouldn’t have invited you to come over alone to my house, either. I could say I’m sorry about it, yet it would be a lie. I like my lies to have a little bit of truth to them.”

“I noticed that. You did have a crush on your St. Mungos’ nurse, then?”

Severus let out a short laugh and reached for his glass of wine.

“I certainly did.”

“And you didn’t do anything about it.”

“Frankly, the state she saw me in would kill any romantic mood. Besides… I’d miss out on the marvelous opportunity of hopelessly lusting over a student.”

“It’s not hopeless.”

“Yet I wouldn’t like to leave Hogwarts by being fired.”

“I’m aware.”

The rest of the dinner went by in silence and I couldn’t tell if telling him I reciprocated his feelings had been a good idea after all. Regardless of either I felt something for him or not, the real problem still stood between us.

Besides, he had been so certain I didn’t reciprocate that clearly the news I did reciprocate was taking its sweet time seeping into his stubborn brain.

“Did I do the right thing?” I asked. “In telling you? You’re so quiet.”

“Besides the obvious, which is not laying a finger on you, I’m not sure what it is that I’m supposed to do or say to you at this moment.”

“I don’t either.” I confessed to him and that lightened up the mood somewhat. “You could always offer an ironic remark, which never fails to come to your mind.”

“I’m at a loss for words, Hermione.”

He said it so tenderly I could have kissed him that moment.

But I didn’t.

“That would be a first.” I remarked.

Severus narrowed his eyes at me, saying nothing for a moment, and returned to his dinner.

“You’re going to get me fired.”

I decided to change the subject to safer waters and reported to him about the latest potion I was working in at the laboratory. The rest of the night went on as if nothing had happened, which I didn’t mind.

Otherwise I may really get him fired.

And then it was time for me to go back to Hogwarts.

Severus helped me put on my jacket and handed me my purse, as appropriate as ever, even though I could feel his gaze more insistently on me, soft but shamelessly wanting.

I bit my lower lip when he opened the door for me and decided I should at least give him a hug before leaving. We had hugged before.

This one was different. His hands were firm against my back, his fingertips pressing on my flesh. He pressed me tight against him and ran his lips on the curve of neck, taking in my smell.

“These are going to be the _longest_ four months of my life.” he purred in my ear and kissed my cheek, one hand cupping the other side of my face.

With that, he let me go and cleared his throat. My mouth was open ajar, and I couldn’t form a coherent sentence to save my life.

“I’m sorry.” he said, touching my elbow in apology. “Was it too much?”

I tried to recompose myself.

“I agree with the sentiment. Though I may have some trouble sleeping tonight.”

His thumb drew a circle on my arm.

“I won’t be sleeping, either.”

“I should _really_ go.” I informed him and fled the scene before I had enough time to think through what just happened and react to it.

My breath was raggedy when I arrived back in my rooms. I ran a cold shower yet not even that prevented me from touching myself three times before finally falling asleep.


	28. Chapter 28

I paced my whole house like a caged animal the entire night, playing over what happened in my head, wondering what would happen in the future, reflecting over everything that transpired between Hermione and me.

Thank Merlin the following day was a Sunday so I could catch up on sleep.

I wanted to see her again, hear her voice reassuring me it wasn’t all an elaborated prank, though all I could do was stay at my empty house for the day.

And any hint of concentration eluded me the entire Monday. I’d see her again in the evening, and it was all I could think about. What should I do? What should I say? I took a pile of papers to grade during her office hours, yet I didn’t grade any of them, waiting for her arrival.

My heart leaped in my chest when she opened the door and greeted me with a shy smile.

She didn’t know what to do about me, either.

And I recalled how she fled that night.

“Did I come on too strong?” I asked.

“Not really. I just needed to leave before—”

“I got myself fired. Excellent thinking.”

“You’re welcome.” she replied, cheeky, and went to work. “I see you took back your idea of not being around for my office hours.”

“Well, considering my reasons for it were rendered void, I thought… It wouldn’t be a problem. Unless it is, in which case I can grade papers just as well in my office. Even better, perhaps.”

“It’s fine. I clearly enjoy your presence, so…”

It was real.

Twenty years seemed to have passed by within a heartbeat and the last four months before Hermione graduated felt like an eternity, to me. I could wait, I waited for so long without even realizing reciprocal affection was a possibility for me; the final stretch got me wearing myself thin.

I just…

Needed to hold her.

Even moreso now that I knew she wanted the same.

I shook my head and decided to struggle with my own work, that I had been neglecting. Eventually, I did manage to get some of it done, and it was time for Hermione to leave to her rooms.

I wondered if I should…

“Will you come with me?” she asked. “My book bag is heavy today.”

“And you’re asking the war veteran to do the heavy lifting for you.”

“I’m a war veteran too, sir.”

“Please don’t call me sir.” I said, though I relented.

I stood up to get her book bag and follow her out of the laboratory. Hermione walked very close to me, and I couldn’t be that physically close and not want to reach out.

My hand went for the curve of her waist as if it had done that many times before. And I wasn’t shooed away, either, which was a huge achievement for me. Having someone be that comfortable around me felt like true bliss.

If Lily were alive, she’d twist her nose at the thought of me being with a friend of her son, though out of all things I did I knew she’d disapprove, this was the one I didn’t regret in the slightest.

“I’m pretty close with being done on brewing everything I needed to. Just a couple more potions I need to finish touching up, and then… I’ll be all set for the NEWTs.” Hermione said.

“With several months to spare.”

“Which I’m thankful for. I have all the other subjects to review in that time.”

“You’ll do just fine. You’ve worked very hard.”

“I certainly hope so. Considering I’m not certain what is it that I want to do yet, I’d like to have all options available. By the way, I can’t put into words how thankful I am that you decided to go all the way to Australia to make me reconsider. What if I decide I want to do something related to Potions?”

“Now you can say you’ve learned from the best.” I remarked.

She snorted.

“Such modesty.”

“That is a perk of being the only Potions Master in Great Britain.”

“It also means you’re the _worse_ Potions Master.”

“I prefer not to talk about that.” I replied, good-humored.

This was the part I’d pull her to me and kiss her lips, however I felt on edge enough by having my arm around her. If someone saw us… McGonagall would skin me alive and have my head rot outside of Hogwarts’ gates.

Yet I couldn’t pull away.

Her rooms arrived much earlier than I hoped they would. I didn’t want to let go, but I was forced to give her bag, and bid her good night while staying at a respectable distance. Then I left, to my house, back at my newly acquired hobby of thinking about Hermione, the past, present and, most of all, the future.

That terrified me a bit.

What was supposed to do with her? Take her out to see London, for certain, and cook her meals and what else?

I had never done that before. My life could be resumed in a series of meaningless flings and unreciprocated feelings.

Besides… I knew how it looked like.

It looked like I was a desperate middle-age man chasing after a young woman’s skirt, lusting over her youthful body, big bright eyes and full lips.

I did come to find Hermione beautiful in her adulthood, though my feelings were more than just that. I really did think that maybe… Me with her… Was something meant to last. The topics I felt as if I couldn’t talk to her about were far and few, none of which I was in fact interested in discussing.

I appreciated her input, found her jokes very amusing actually and I wanted to be there for her, get to know her, inside and out.

I had been in love, once, fiercely so, but… It wasn’t anything like this.

Not being able to be with her was crushing my soul like nothing else ever did.

I didn’t think…

I’d be able to wait.


	29. Chapter 29

_Hey Mione,_

_How is it going? It’s been a while, uh? Are you free to hang out at Hogsmeade this weekend?_

_Ron_

I narrowed my eyes at the note, wondering what ulterior motive Ron had to seek me out. We were well into February and neither he or Harry mentioned visiting me again, though I wrote to Harry semi often. I never wrote to Ron, and he never wrote me.

We weren’t friends anymore, to be quite honest. I had my doubts I was still even friends with Harry. He seemed pretty satisfied with Ginny, and Ron, and all the Weasleys, not to mention his auror training.

Though I suppose I was pretty satisfied with Hogwarts for the time being.

Still, I thought it’d be a good opportunity to clear things up with Ron, now that it had been a long time since the break up and he had moved on from me — and I from him.

Harry and Ron had been right there with me in the thick of things. It felt impossible to be close to people who just didn’t know. And it felt disheartening to lose the people who could understand me the most.

So I accepted the invitation, which, in hindsight, was terribly naïve of me.

Saturday evening, and I headed to Hogsmeade to find Ron already waiting for me at the Hog’s Head inn. He had combed his hair and shaved and picked nice clothes, for once.

I looked quite good myself though moreso because I was tired of being in teaching robes all day, every day. With the students still on the castle, I wasn’t comfortable wearing my usual muggle clothes on the weekends.

I sat down and Ron ordered me a pint of butterbeer. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in a rhythmic manner that denounced his nervousness.

“Hey, Ron. What happened? You look worried.” I asked, wondering if something bad had happened to any of his brothers.

“I’m good. Everything’s good. I wanted to hear from you, actually. How is it going, with Hogwarts and everything?”

“If you came here to give me bad news, you don’t need to sugarcoat it, you know. Is everything fine with your family? With Harry?”

“Everything’s good for everyone. I just wanted to talk to you, really. Wanted to know how you were doing.”

“Well, I’m fine now. You should have asked while I was stuck in Australia back when my parents didn’t remember me at all.” I replied.

I didn’t want to sound bitter, but I _was_ bitter, and my whole point of meeting up with Ron was exactly to put everything on the table. I couldn’t remain his friend while still being frustrated with what happened right after the war.

“I’m sorry about that. I don’t think… I handled our break-up well.”

“Don’t you say.”

“And I want to make amends. Better later than never, right?” he offered, quite lamely, I must add.

“I suppose you’re right, but… It’s not going to be that easy. You really hurt me, you know. And you left me alone when I needed support the most. It’s easy for you to want to fix things when I’m doing fine for myself and you have to make little effort. You weren’t just a boyfriend. You were a best friend of mine.”

“Were?”

“Were.” I repeated. “It’s been how long since the last time we wrote each other? The last time we talked without Harry putting us together in the same room? Besides… You were never there for me, for anything. It was always me mothering you and Harry.”

Ron sipped his butterbeer, his ears growing red.

“I realize that now. And I want to be better than that.” He said. “I’m already doing better than that. I think I’m handling well the break-up with my ex-girlfriend.”

How stupid was I for not seeing that coming? Wasn’t it always like this, back in Hogwarts? Ron seeking me out as a last resort, because he couldn’t handle not being in cahoots with anyone?

“I’m not ever going back together with you, Ronald. I hope you know this. If you have any hopes of being anything different than friends with me, you are sorely mistaken.”

“Why? I was your first boyfriend. We went through so much together.”

“Relationships aren’t about the past. They are about the present and the future. And we don’t have a future together. For starters, we have nothing in common anymore. I don’t want children, and you do. You want to have a huge family like yours and I want nothing to do with that.” I said, and paused. “Besides… Right now I have no feelings whatsoever for you.”

“Can’t that be fixed?”

“No. Ron, listen, I have someone right now.”

Well, I didn’t have anyone yet, however I hoped to have in three or so months’ time. Maybe it wouldn’t work out like it didn’t pan out with Ron… Still, I wanted to give it a honest shot. I had no space for anyone other than Severus at that time, even if I wasn’t with him. Officially.

Now that I was thinking about it, I didn’t think I could fix my friendship with Ron. If he knew… He wouldn’t look me in the eye again.

And maybe he would know about it, someday.

“Who?”

“You don’t know him. Someone new I met.”

Both statements weren’t exactly untrue. Ron didn’t _know_ Severus, only the persona Severus had built for himself. Meeting the real Severus did feel like meeting someone new, even if he wasn’t entirely divorced from his cover.

“Is it Krum? Did he reach out to you?”

“Just because you run back to your ex-girlfriends when the current relationship doesn’t work, doesn’t mean everyone else does the same.” I realized I took a wrong turn in the conversation. “And the only reason I’m not going back together with you is because I don’t want to. The fact I have someone is a mere side effect of being single for a while and meeting someone I like.”

He sunk in his chair, with a scowl.

“Nevermind, then.”

I shook my head at him, lips pursed.

“Yeah, nevermind.”

With that, I stood up and left, my butterbeer resting untouched on the table.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi peeps! Sorry that I haven't been replying to comments for the last couple of chapters :c As I've said my schedule with uni has been a bit hectic as of late so I haven't had the time to actually sit down to reply! As usual, I appreciate every single comment and I'll get back to you as soon as I can!!

“Is there something wrong?” I asked of Hermione as soon as she stepped into the room.

I was proud to say I knew her well enough to read the slightest change of mood, though I wouldn’t need to be that close of her to know, just by her face, that something pissed her off recently. Perhaps in the last 48 hours.

She sighed as she plopped down on my desk.

“I’m not even sure if it’s worth telling you about it, but…”

“I’m all ears, my love.”

Was I being too sappy? Yes.

But could I restrain myself?

Certainly not.

Not when that meant Hermione flashed me one of her crooked, shy smiles that started as a simple smirk and illuminated her whole face.

“Ron asked me to meet up with him on the weekend.”

I sat a little straighter on my chair.

“And what did he do?”

“He wanted to rekindle our friendship.” she told me. “Because he broke up with his girlfriend, naturally. Which I should have seen coming, I know, but… I didn’t.”

“What did you tell him?”

“In short, I told him to sod off. I think our friendship is officially dead now. He thinks I’m always going to be available whenever he feels like coming back to me, because we’ve known each other for a long time, and we were best friends, and we’ve been through a war and all of that.” A sigh of frustration. “That doesn’t mean anything. Besides…”

I cocked an eyebrow, waiting for her elaboration.

“I told him I have someone. Which may be an exaggeration on my part but—”

“It’s not.”

We hadn’t kissed or anything, though at that point I knew very well that McGonagall had enough grounds to get me fired, if she suspected of something. I couldn’t keep my hands away from Hermione. We decided to wait, though I didn’t.

At that point, it barely mattered that we didn’t kiss. On the lips, anyway.

That was a dangerous train of thought, I knew.

“Good to know I wasn’t lying to him, then.” she said.

With that close to me, my hands were itching to pull her to my lap, which was why I had them placed on the armrests, my fingers uneasy, longing to reach out.

“Don’t you have work to do?”

“Not a lot, actually.”

I would never have guessed Hermione was such a tease when she wanted to be.

 “You should get to it, though. Before I lose my mind.”

 “I suppose I should.” She agreed and slid off to the floor to do what she came to the laboratory to do.

I had given up on bringing papers to grade, for I couldn’t focus when she was near me anymore. The book barely made any sense to me, but I needed something to lure my eyes and my thoughts away from her.

Three more months.

Twelve more weeks.

82 more days, give or take.

I didn’t have enough concentration to calculate how many hours would that be.

The time seemed both to drag and fly by during Hermione’s office hours. On one hand, I was glad to have her around. On the other, it was almost torture. My imagination didn’t run very far when I thought she for certain didn’t want me to think of her in such a light, and now it had her blessing to run free.

Though she spoke the truth about not having much to do. In forty-five minutes, she was done with her tasks for the night and we were off to her rooms. I had pulled her close to me by her shoulders, which felt respectful enough.

Even though McGonagall would disagree with that assertion.

“You know, I don’t even think I’m friends with Harry anymore.” Hermione confided me.

Obviously.

“Is that so?”

“We barely talk. All we had in common was the fact we were classmates and then there was Voldemort to talk about, too, but… I couldn’t talk to him about myself. I barely talked to him about what happened to my parents. Now it’s just… There’s nothing to talk about. There are no classes, no Voldemort, and I’m not even his go to whenever he has an issue because he has Ginny.”

“And now you have me.”

“Which is a welcome change.” she told me. “Though I still miss having friends. Actual friends.”

“You won’t be stuck in Hogwarts for eternity. You’ll meet new people at whatever job you decide to do, and wherever else you might go to. You won’t be lonely for much longer.”

“I did meet you at Hogw…”

“Shhhhh.” I asked of Hermione, letting go of her. Something echoed further down the hallway we were in, a floor below Hermione’s rooms. “I think I heard a step.”

“I didn’t hear it.”

“You weren’t harassed for years by people wearing an invisibility cloak.”

“Fair enough.”

We pulled to a halt, and I kept my ears open.

Nothing.

“It is still early.” I whispered to Hermione, resuming our walk. “So there might be people patrolling the hallways. We need… We need to be more careful.”

“We aren’t really waiting, are we?” Hermione commented.

“We certainly aren’t.”

I dropped off at her chambers, on edge. The prospect of being caught with Hermione like that made the fact we were overstepping boundaries sink into my brain. I thought that as long as we didn’t kiss or, Merlin forbid, have sex, then it was fine, but…

A relationship wasn’t just that. And my feelings weren’t just that either.

By all means, I could in fact get fired.

I didn’t fear the dark or the shadows of the castle, though that particular night they made me jumpy. I could get caught with Hermione by a student. And although I fancied myself to be a better teacher after dropping my cover, plenty students who knew me from before still had a grudge with me.

Could not blame them, in all honesty.  

I wasn’t even that good of a teacher.

The problem was that one of these students would love to find a reason to get rid of me, I thought as I passed through the Great Hall.

“And now you have me?” said someone, stepping out of the shadows cast by one of the stone pillars holding up the ceiling. “Snape, you’re threading dangerous waters here.”

I cleared my throat, trying to even my breathing.

“Vector. What a pleasure to see you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When your blood goes south and there is not enough blood in your brain to know how much 12 times 7 is lmao


	31. Chapter 31

“For my own sake,” said Vector. “I’m going to assume this has started recently.”

“It has.” I stressed, through my teeth.

“I find this a highly questionable thing for Hermione to even want, however she’s an adult, and I can’t stop her, but I am going to speak to you as a colleague here and tell you that you must put this on hold. Right now.”

I said nothing, because there was nothing I could say to defend myself. I didn’t leave, either, for it seemed Vector had a mouthful to discuss about it still, and I didn’t want to anger someone who could put a terrible end to my teaching career.

“You know how this is going to look like, don’t you?” she went on. “It’s going to look like this has been going on since when she was a regular student here. Since she was a girl. The Daily Prophet is going to hear about it, and it’s going to make your life and _her_ life impossible. It’s going to make the teachers’ lives impossible, because there will be a whole ruckus about Hogwarts’ conduct and the children’s safety here.”

I had considered that, thought that didn’t quite sink in until I heard someone else saying. The issue was much bigger than just me getting fired — which would be unpleasant, but not a serious problem, not with my generous retirement fund.

But Vector’s lecture meant one thing:

“And don’t you plan on telling McGonagall? I assume you heard enough to know what is going on.”

Vector sighed in frustration.

“If she comes to me to ask about this, I’m not going to lie. I am here in good faith to warn you to step away from Hermione before it gets to this point. She is a dear student of mine, and I’m well aware she won’t forgive me if I say something to McGonagall unprompted. Besides, I’d like to avoid reprimanding her at all costs. Twenty-one years old are worse than teenagers because you can’t tell them what to do. _You_ are the teacher. _You_ are the one who’s well into your adulthood and should know better.”

I was very relieved to hear that lecture, instead of Vector simply going to McGonagall. The fact she liked Hermione so much was convenient — she wouldn’t do that out of her kindness towards me.  

Besides…

Vector was right.

I chose not to step away because Hermione wanted it, too, but… She was young, and still immature about certain things, no matter that she was an adult. And I chose not to do the right thing.

Even though this time I was well aware of the consequences. I simply thought there were no risks, or that things wouldn’t go that far. What was my defense? That I didn’t sleep with her? That she reciprocated my affections?

I had no defense.

“Thank you.” I said. “For the warning. I will do as you say.”

“You better, Snape. At this rate, it wouldn’t be long until McGonagall suspected of something. And she’d want to have your head. Hermione is everyone’s darling around here. Even yours, I suppose.”

“When did you find out?”

“Tonight. I heard you on the hallway while I was patrolling, obviously. But Hermione had spoken to me about a friend.” Vector snorted. “I should have seen that coming. When did she ever leave the castle? Either way… I’m going to bed now. Hopefully, when I wake up this will be sorted out and I won’t have to speak to Hermione herself about this.”

She turned on her heels and left, leaving me alone in the dark. I let out the sigh of relief I was suppressing the entire time and headed home with a heavy heart.

I got carried away, again, and lost sight the meaning of my actions, the consequences. I thought I wouldn’t commit a mistake as grave as becoming a Death Eater again, however… I got that wrong.

I’d be crucified, in the Wizardry World. The chance of having a regular relationship afterwards would be shot — for starters, I didn’t think a possible relationship with Hermione would survive if everyone thought I groomed or abused her, and we couldn’t go out on the streets without it being a whole issue.

None of that seemed to matter when I was with Hermione. Still, I was the teacher, the one in charge. I had to do what was right.

When I arrived home, I sat down with a tumbler of firewhiskey, parchment, ink and quill. It wouldn’t work if I said anything face-to-face. Although Hermione would certainly understand if I explained the whole scope of the situation, I couldn’t think straight with her near me.

The only solution was not to be in that position.

_Hermione,_

_I am sorry to end everything like this, through a letter. I don’t think I could keep my word if I said it to your face. There is more to this than simply me losing a job I don’t need._

I leaned back on my chair, wondering if a note could get intercepted on the way to Hermione’s room. The safest route was not to say too much.

I at first intended to tell her we should wait, however Vector’s words struck another chord in me. It was very questionable of her to want this. I _was_ much older, and the newspapers would make her life a living hell if she was in a relationship with me, regardless of when everyone thought it started.

Hermione deserved to be with someone her age, someone who hadn’t committed the mistakes I did. Perhaps she couldn’t see it because she felt lonely and indulged in the kindness I extended to her; perhaps she still had a ways to go before being able to fully flesh out the consequences, as I had done at her age.

What if she decided to have kids and a family, later on? What if she felt pressured to settle down before being ready because I was at the age to get married — as she noted herself?

It’d be so complicated.

And Hermione deserved better than this.

She deserved much, much better than me.

_Please, don’t come looking for me. I won’t change my mind on this. Not even in the future._

_Sincerely yours,_

_S._

I couldn’t fold the letter and send it right away because a tear stain had to dry, first.


	32. Chapter 32

The worst part was suffering in silence.

I never had my heart so swiftly broken before, and I couldn’t even seek a comforting shoulder to cry on or ask someone if it’d always hurt like that. My parents didn’t care enough, and I had no friends, besides Vector, I supposed, who couldn’t possibly know the extent of the situation.

It wasn’t even a proper breakup because Severus and I were never in an actual relationship in the first place, yet it hurt like an infected wound on my chest. It continued to hurt even way after my tears had dried.

And I even became numb, yet my pain resurfaced at regular intervals.

It resurfaced when I tried to date back in Australia, the son of my parents’ neighbors, during Easter holidays. He was an ocean biologist, and showed me the most beautiful beaches around my area, but whenever I woke up in his arms, I felt like crying because it was not the pair of arms I wanted around me.

I couldn’t set foot in the laboratory anymore, and I avoided the lower levels of the castle entirely, just for the chance of maybe stumbling on Severus. I didn’t care about my grade in Potions. I had gone through all the potions anyway.

Perhaps I’d get an E instead of an O, though I was beyond caring about it. An E was perfectly acceptable for someone who didn’t even want to take Potions in the first place.

Similarly, I felt like bawling my eyes out while I looked myself in the mirror, trying out a graduation dress.

“This one is perfect!” Susan exclaimed.

“Don’t you think the cleavage is too big?” I asked, trying not to sound as if I had a huge knot on my throat.

Which I did.

It was a lacy, light pink dress with a quite large deep cleavage, where the thicker fabric beneath the lace disappeared, and indeed I looked gorgeous in it, except it reminded me I’d be graduating soon, I’d be out of Hogwarts, and three months before I had such wild plans for when that happened.

Now I just wanted to flee to Australia and pretend Hogwarts never happened.

“Oh, honey, the good thing about not having boobs is getting away with wearing stuff like this.” Susan said. “I wish I could. But you don’t seem happy with it. Do you want me to pick another dress for you?”

Vector figured out I was sad about something and the invitations to hang out with her and her wife increased in frequency, so much that I could even say I befriended Susan. When she heard of my graduation, she immediately offered to help me get a dress for the occasion.

To be frank, I didn’t even want to go to the ceremony and the party.

Though I felt like I’d regret not experiencing that when I had the chance, just because of a broken heart. Perhaps I wouldn’t have a great time with it, but I wouldn’t miss out, either.

Besides, Vector and Susan would be there, plus Harry and Ginny. I wouldn’t be by myself.

“No, this one is beautiful.” I said. “I just… I’ve been upset about something.”

Susan placed her hands on my shoulders.

“What is it, my sweet?” she asked, her voice full of concern.

I supposed… It wouldn’t hurt to tell her the story in a bit more detail, would it?

“Please don’t tell Septima about this.”

“Of course. She is my wife, but I don’t share secrets that aren’t mine. Do you want to talk over a cup of coffee?”

We left the store with the dress, and headed straight to the nearest coffee place.

“Did you ever have a break up that wasn’t a break up but devastated you regardless?” I asked over, staring at the light brown foam of my drink.

“Oh, I had some of those in my youth, yes. Is this what’s going on?”

“Yes. I… I feel pathetic because it’s been three months and I can’t get over it. I keep remembering the person and even now I want to cry my eyes out. I didn’t think I was that in love.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Hermione. Is this your first time?”

I nodded, fearing I’d really start to cry if I opened my mouth.

“And for how long have you been into this person anyway?”

“A… A while.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. This is the first time you feel this pain. Besides, if you’ve been into this person for a long time, of course it’s going to take you a while to get over it, too.” Susan said. “I bet you still even have things that remember you of them.”

The entire castle of Hogwarts, maybe?

“I do.”

“Well, get rid of them. Get rid of the memories of this person. Or at least tuck them all into a corner you won’t be able to access them easily. It’s still going to hurt for a while, though it should die down by itself if you don’t keep rubbing salt in the wound. It gets easier only with time.”

I supposed I had a reason to look forward to graduation after all. Forgetting Severus was a hard task, when even my room, and the wards of my own door, reminded me of him. Perhaps when I moved to Australia for good…

“I’ll try.”

The conversation with Susan put me at ease with the fact I could not, for the life of me, get over Severus. I had been into him for several months before the short month we were actually… _Something_ to each other.

What were three months next to that? How was I supposed to let it all go so easily while living inside the biggest reminder?

“It’s okay to be sad and heartbroken for as long as you have to. You can’t force it to happen. Next thing you know, you’ll be falling in love with someone else much better, and you won’t even remember crying over this person.”

I sincerely hoped what Susan said was true. I couldn’t bear it any longer.


	33. Chapter 33

Participating on the graduation had been a terrible mistake. I thought I simply wouldn’t enjoy it, but rather I dreaded it the entire time, no matter how beautiful everything was, no matter that I was graduating with distinction after getting all Os for my NEWTs — which, by the way, were the only thing that managed to get me out of my slump.

My only comfort was that Severus didn’t come.

However, my parents didn’t agree to come either, so my misery wasn’t only about him, after all.

The ceremony itself happened outside. A dais was set up for McGonagall to do a speech, and the students to receive the diploma by her hands. I barely registered the speech or going up there to get my diploma. I wanted to toss it to the ground.

All my brain power was focused on smiling at the right times, and not having a meltdown in front of everyone.

And then it was time for the graduation party. It was as grand as the Yule Ball, except with less people. There were snacks, and refreshments on the tables lining the walls of the Great Hall, and the furniture had been cleared to set up a stage for a band, and give people space to mingle, celebrate, and dance.

Oh, I danced, and tried to have fun, while Harry and Ginny were still in the party. Though they left early, and then I was by myself, leaning against the wall with nothing else to think about by my own pathetic situation.

I had to leave the castle, but I didn’t want to. I’d feel like truly losing Severus even if he was already lost to me by his own doing. Tears welled up in my eyes and I left to take a breather on the steps leading up to the Great Hall, from the entrance doors.

I leaned against the handrails and took deep breaths.

The long-lasting pain was a surprise to me.

Though I supposed it was because I saw us as a great match. An unlikely, great match, like I hadn’t felt with anyone else. It didn’t feel like only losing a person I’d been in a situation with for a month.

The doors to the Great Hall creaked open and Susan stepped out of the room.

“Oh, darling. I saw you leaving. Still feeling under the weather, uh?”

I wiped away the stubborn tear running down my face.

“It’s stupid.”

“Don’t say that. It’s not.”

Susan would be a great mother. She came to stand beside me and pulled my head to her soft chest, patting my hair. The tears started to flow, silent. I didn’t have the strength to truly sob and bawl about it any longer, which had to be an improvement.

Then the door opened again, and Vector came out of it.

“Hermione? What happened?”

Susan didn’t reply, for I had asked her to keep it a secret. I supposed it didn’t matter anymore, so I said:

“Do you remember that friend?”

“I do.” Vector said.

“He broke up with me. Through a letter.”

“As in he broke up with you forever? He didn’t say, for example, let’s take a break for a while?”

An odd question. I let go of Susan’s embrace. I would have understood if he had written me to say we should step away from each other while he was still my teacher, though he had broken up with me — as if we had anything in the first place — forever.

“Yes,” I said. “Forever.”

“Merlin, he is so stupid.” Vector said under her breath. “I didn’t mean to tell him to put an end to things _forever_. My exact words were _put it on hold_.”

“What?” I asked, softly.

“Oh, Hermione, I know you’ve been in cahoots with Professor Snape.”

With that, Susan gasped in shock.

“It was a _teacher_ this entire time?”

“Yes, it was a teacher, so you can see why it would be the right thing for me to come up to him and say he should knock it off before McGonagall suspected of something, because I knew, and I wouldn’t lie to my boss, so I’d rather she didn’t ask. But I didn’t tell him he should let go of you forever. I see how much you like him, however questionable that is. I wouldn’t want you to be that miserable.”

Suddenly, Vector’s actions since then made perfect sense. She knew what transpired, or at least had a solid guess at it.

“Are you sure he ended up for good?”

“Yes, he told me not to look for him, not even in the future.”

“You should.” Susan interjected.

“Oh, I don’t think—”

“Darling, I preferred to see you with someone who’s your age and not, well, Snape, but if you like him this much, you should look for him.” said Vector.

This was not the advice I expected to hear from her, so I said nothing, not knowing how to react or reply. I didn’t feel like it’d be the right thing to do, yet I was hearing the exact opposite from people much more knowledgeable than me.

“You know my story with Susan. You think it was advisable for me to keep pursuing a girl who thought she was straight and kept pushing me out, because she was afraid of dating a woman?” Susan agreed with a nod and a resigned shrug. “If he didn’t give you a proper explanation, maybe you should look for one. Go figure, maybe it’s something stupid, that could be figured ou—”

The front doors to outside of the castle opened, and someone walked inside. I recognized the sound of the boots on stone. I didn’t look over to see who it was, but Vector and Susan did.

“Is that Snape?” Susan mouthed to Vector, who took her wife’s hand and hushed away to back inside the Hall. “Good luck!”

The steps up the stairs were hesitant, and I refused to look in his direction until he was standing right in front of me.

“You know Vector didn’t mean to tell you to break up with me for eternity, right?” I said.

“I know. I… Simply thought it would be better for you.”

Now that I was seeing him, I was furious about how it all happened and felt like slapping him across the face.

“You don’t get to decide that for me, Severus. My life is my own, and _I_ get to decide what’s best for me or who I should be with, even if I get it wrong along the way.”

“And what do you think is best for you?” he asked, tender, his fingers fidgeting.

“You,” I replied, and closed the distance between us to lock our lips together.

His kiss tasted like firewhiskey.

Firewhiskey, and mint toothpaste, and a (nearly) year-long wait.

It took a moment, but he kissed me back, hands sliding around my waist. I broke the kiss to ask:

“Have you been drinking?”

“I needed to muster the courage to come here and try to see you one last time.” he said. “Then I brushed my teeth so people wouldn’t notice I’m not entirely sober.”

“ _That_ didn’t work.” I replied with a laugh, with my arms around his shoulders.

“I think you spent too much time with me.” Severus said and kissed my neck, then my jaw, then my cheek. “Hopefully you’ll spend more.”

“Oh, I intend to.”


	34. ya nasties

How was it that the less I had to wait, the more I couldn’t bear to?

I tried to calm myself and relax, knowing Hermione would be around shortly, yet that short amount of time dragged by like centuries. I had invited her to come to my house for dinner to celebrate for her graduation, which she said yes to.

I couldn’t quite believe that she hadn’t forgotten all about me, three months after I had been terrible to her for a very stupid reason, now that I come to think of it.

When the doorbell rang, I leaped to the door and flung it open. Hermione walked inside and I didn’t even wait to properly close the door before pulling her close to me and kissing her lips.

I thought that maybe I should be slow, yet it seemed like she wanted the same thing I did. My lips travelled to her neck, as my hands slid down her back. I had her pinned against the wall, feeling her squirm under me, her fingertips digging my shoulder blades.

I caressed the naked skin of her stomach, and slipped my fingers underneath her top, a flimsy little thing that didn’t even cover her belly.

“Is this alright?” I asked.

“Yes. Please.”

The flesh of her breasts was soft, and her nipples promptly responded to me.

I couldn’t wait. I knelt, lifting her top, my lips kissing her stomach, making their way south towards the navel of her shorts.

“You know,” I said, looking up to her while I undid the ties of her sneakers. “This would be a good occasion to wear a dress.”

She laughed at the observation, biting her lip in anticipation. I tossed one sneaker across the room, then another, and unbuttoned her shorts, lowering them and tossing them aside as well. I propped one of her thighs on my shoulder, and ran my lips on her inner thigh, heading up while a hand held her underwear to the side.

I didn’t have words to explain what Hermione tasted like. Her taste was salty, unlike anything I had ever tasted. Finding the right terms to describe it would be a tough job. What I could describe was how her fingertips dug into my hair, and she bucked her hips and panted and moaned, so responsive to everything I did with my mouth. I didn’t stop, not until I felt all her muscles clenching, and she let out a strangled moan.

When I stood, she wrapped her legs around my waist, hoisting herself up to kiss me. I was about to take her wherever it was around my house we could continue what we started, when she said:

“I’ll need the shorts.”

“What for?” I said.

“Trust me.”

With that, she slid down and picked them up to fish out of the back pocket three condoms.

Ah, of course. I hadn’t thought about that.

I picked her up again and kissed her neck, heading to the living room where there plenty of comfortable enough surfaces. I sat on the armchair, bringing Hermione to straddle my lap.

To be frank, by then I was already throbbing inside my pants. Nothing turned me on more than feeling how aroused _she_ was.

Hermione started to unbutton my shirt, as I reached around her bottom to slip a finger inside of her. She bucked her hips and her breathing lost its pace.

“Merlin.” she said under her breath, fumbling with the buttons, which I watched with great pleasure as I felt her flesh squeeze around my fingertip.

My original plan was to take her upstairs, though I didn’t think I was going to handle waiting for that long. Trying to put a condom with someone on my lap, kissing my neck, with pants and everything still mostly on proved itself to be quite the challenge, but I made it through.

I didn’t have the foresight to remove her underwear before, and I frankly did not have the patience to do so, so again I got it out the way to slip inside of her. She moved her hips around to get herself more comfortable with strangled breathing, hands resting on my hips.

Having her ride me was something close to an out of body experience. Hermione was so tight, so warm, so wet. She touched herself while she did so, working herself up to another orgasm while I held back, letting her have her fun — for I was having mine, my hands ghostly against her naked brown skin.

My hands ended up on her thighs, guiding her to a faster pace, until I myself climaxed inside of her.

Hermione got out of the top of me and sat on my thigh, sweaty and short-breathed, but with a satisfied smirk on her face. I supposed I looked pretty smug myself.

“I do have a bed upstairs. I planned on introducing you to it.” I said.

“It would be my pleasure.”

We didn’t have a dinner as much as we had a snack, late in the night. Hermione was young and I had been stuck with spotty sexual activity my entire life, so I had a lot to make up for.

Though this wasn’t the best part of the night.

“I’m not exactly sure what I’m going to tell McGonagall about showing up only tomorrow to pick up my clothes.” She said, getting cozy in my arms with only a shirt of mine on, to spend the night.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” I replied with a kiss to her forehead, and I pulled her close to me. “Where will you go after getting your belongings?”

“Home. Australia. I need to be with my parents. Though you’re welcome to spend your summer with me, if you want to. You could use the sunlight.”

“I’m creating a monster.” I said, in reply to her not so thinly-veiled remark at my paleness. “Of course I’ll go.”

I had to laugh, and pull her closer, and kiss her lips.

I’d be with her for the summer, and then I’d have to return to Hogwarts and London for a new term.

It was too soon to think it, but one day I hoped to return to her arms every night.


End file.
